


you can't rewind the tapes

by xaeli (eggstatics)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But they're never really enemies, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Varchie!Centric, also, kind of, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggstatics/pseuds/xaeli
Summary: sometimes people have to fall apart to fall back together //this fic picks up immediately after 4x19. There are still mysteries to solve and murderers to find but that becomes a lot more difficult when Archie, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica are working more against each other than with each other after Jughead and Veronica are sent a tape detailing Archie and Betty's disloyalty. They all make mistakes while trying to rewind time to before they were sent the tapes - but they can't move backward on a tape stuck in play. The four of them must learn to live in a world post-tapes and maybe - just maybe - fall back in love while doing it.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper & Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge/Sweet Pea
Comments: 24
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

The drive back to Elm Street was silent apart from the gentle sounds of their tires hitting against asphalt and Betty Cooper fiddling with a tape in her hands. She always held something when she was concentrating, and Jughead knew better than to distract her. His only question was whether or not their minds were on the same track - which, more often than not, they were. The tape she held was potentially the second Riverdale murder caught on video - third, if you included the many cameras that were recording the night Midge Klump’s body was revealed to the town in the middle of their high school production. However, this video was different from Jason Blossom’s security camera death or the tragedy of Midge - it wasn’t filmed on accident. Whoever was filming the videos  _ wanted  _ them to see this. They wanted them to witness the live production of Jughead’s cruel and twisted writing. Writing they’d both previously thought of as genius. Writing that didn’t deserve to be anything more than fiction.

“We’re here.” Jughead spoke softly as he pulled into the driveway, becoming overly aware of his movements as he shifted the car into park. Betty hummed her response, lifting her forehead from against the cold glass of the window. She was still thinking, and Jughead would have to wait to hear of what. 

Jughead stepped out of the car, taking a moment to rummage through the backseat for his backpack and silently curse himself out for never remembering to clean out his car. The sound of water bottles crinkling together seemed amplified against the silence of the night. 

“Do you think it was really him?” Betty turned back to Jughead, still passing the tape back and forth between her hands. Her thoughts were becoming more apparent to him now - she had not been sitting there contemplating  _ who  _ had filmed the video, but instead if the two of them had been responsible for what was being filmed. If she and her boyfriend had unknowingly handed the perfect murder plot over to murderers.

“I don’t know.” He responded in a single breath, making his way back around the car to open the door for her. When she continued to sit unmoved he extended his hand out to her, “We’ll have to figure out that part next.” She set her hand in his and stepped out of the car, unsure if she used to be better at dealing with these thoughts or if she had just been better at hiding them. Or maybe she was just too comfortable with Jughead now, and no longer needed to conceal the way her thoughts were expressed on her face. Either way, she felt as uneasy as she appeared.

The pair made their way towards the front steps of the house, stopping just before the red front door. Betty didn’t realize why Jughead had fallen still beside her until the toe of her shoe pushed something forward on the rug. Her heart stopped as her eyes slowly dropped to the ground where - sure enough - another VHS tape lay. In a single, fluid, unhurried motion Jughead released Betty’s hand and lowered himself to pick up the tape. Upon turning it over in his hands, their names were revealed in large, sloppy, black sharpie letters. Betty felt a familiar heat rising up in her throat as the day’s lunch threatened to make a rather graphic reappearance. Her hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes sealed themselves shut as her mind reeled in an attempt to remember the next part of Jughead’s story - to know what gruesome murder they’d have to witness next.

“Why don’t you go get ready for bed. I can watch this one alone.” Jughead offered in a vain attempt to comfort her. She nodded, lips pressed together in a fine line, as she moved inside. Ever since Penelope Blossom shot her dad in the head and then - three months later - her only other childhood father figure died in a car crash, Betty didn’t have the best coping mechanisms when it came to witnessing death. Especially, it would seem, not deaths written out in the pages of her own boyfriends murder mystery novel. 

Upstairs, Betty turned into her own room and Jughead watched until the door was closed behind her.There was no masking how concerned he was for her and he couldn’t help but wonder why, for the last few weeks at least - she had been pulling away. When the thought had passed he entered his own room, leaving the door slightly open in case Betty decided to join him. 

After a moment or two of waiting for the screen of the old box TV to warm up, Jughead placed the tape in the VHS player. The tape clicked into place and the machine began to whir quietly. Within seconds the image was playing, and - for the first time in his life - Jughead  _ wished  _ he was watching a murder. He wished he was watching anything -  _ anything _ \- but this. 

Flickering before him on the screen was a cut video, not unlike the ones produced and taken from the Scarlet Suite, of Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews in the bunker and his garage. Spliced between real clips of his best friend and his girlfriend were matching clips of a man and a woman adorned in the same Betty and Archie masks he had seen stab Mr. Honey in the other tape earlier that evening. A rush of an unwelcome warmth rose up in Jughead’s face as he continued to watch the screen. Any audio in the tape was effectively canceled out by his own pulse rising up into his ears - so loudly that he didn’t even har her knock. Betty inched open the door, her voice low as she stepped inside.

“Hey Jug, do you think-” Her voice cut off when her eyes took in the screen. When she started to see what he was seeing. At the sight of her and Archie. She could practically feel the silent rage radiating off of Jughead’s body as his head slowly turned to face her.

“Is this real?” He asked, his voice small. A cruel laugh escaped his lips as Betty struggled to respond, “Of course it is. That’s why they added the real footage. Because they knew otherwise I'd never believe it.” 

Betty’s own pulse quickened as she struggled to string enough words together to explain to him what had happened.To explain to him how she thought she still had feelings for the boy next door even though they were both in love with other people. How they chose to give each other a chance to be sure they weren’t missing anything great. How when they did, they learned exactly what they knew from the start - that they weren’t in love with each other. How knowing this meant that they didn’t need doubt anymore and how she had been the one to end it. But she couldn’t say any of this - she didn’t know how. She couldn’t find the words to explain her infidelity - she couldn’t find the words to say anything at all. Instead, she stood with her mouth agape - jaw opening and closing like a fish.

“Can you please just get out of my room.” His voice sounded deflated this time. As though all the rage had evaporated from his body and left him with nothing. Empty. Betty didn’t move, at first. She wanted to stand in that doorway and fight with him - fight  _ for  _ him. Because at the very least if he was fighting with her that meant they still had something to lose. But he never gave an inch, and she decided that she didn’t have the fight left in her that night.

Betty turned sharply, as to keep him from seeing the tears that had started welling up in her eyes. Because even though she knew she was the one who hurt him - she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Not when he was casting her out without so much as a fight. He hadn’t yelled or pushed back or done anything except laugh and send her away. As if this was the final shoe he had been preparing to drop - and wasn’t he? Hadn’t she given him every reason to not trust her and Archie alone? Hadn’t her actions proven every suspicion he had right?

She closed the door as softly as she had entered, not wanting even a small shift in the air to tip over and break the hollow boy she was leaving inside. As soon as the door shut behind her, her capacity to hold back her tears deteriorated and they began to pour out of her eyes. Still just outside of his door - just out of his reach - she sunk down to her knees, her fists curling in on themselves as she fought to keep her emotions at bay. Each fresh wave of sobs came with it’s own personal thunder, slipping out of her throat in choked sobs that wouldn’t stop. When they slowed she expected to feel the same empty that Jughead had displayed. Instead, what came was laughter. Laughter because after all of that, the one person she wanted to call to talk about it was still Archie.

_ Archie.  _

With the little remaining strength and energy she had left, Betty pulled herself up off of the floor and into her bedroom. Her phone was lying face down on her vanity where she had left it, and when she went to retrieve it the girl who looked back at her in the mirror was an unfamiliar face. It was a girl with swollen red eyes and tear-stained cheeks who didn’t deserve to cry, because the number she was dialing in her phone belonged to the boy who was not her boyfriend who she’d kissed what was starting to feel like lifetimes ago. 

With the phone ringing by her ear, Betty pulled back her curtains to watch Archie. He was sitting at the edge of his bed with a notebook in front of him and his guitar resting on his leg. His strumming stopped and he turned to his phone -  _ C’mon Arch, answer it,  _ she silently urged him as he slid to accept the call. Archie’s brows creased together as he looked out his own window, his eyes meeting hers as he held the phone up to his ear.

“Betty, what’s wrong?” He asked, repositioning himself to better watch her.

“Jughead...he...the tape...they know.” Her words were choppy, spliced by sounds she could no longer distinguish as either cries or laughter.

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.” He set his guitar to the side and was standing at the window now. “Take a breath, what are you trying to say.”

“They sent.. me and Jug a video... of us... in the bunker.” She spoke more carefully this time, fighting to keep her voice level as she still hiccuped between words, “If Veronica... doesn’t know already... she will soon.” 

Betty doesn’t get the chance to say anything else. Archie’s phone dropped out of his hand, clattering to the floor. In a blink he was gone. The conversation between them felt wrong - like they’d come a long way since she had felt safe in a bunker in his arms. 

Archie didn’t have time to think or process what Betty had told him. There was only space for one thing in his mind - Veronica. He threw on his jacket and a pair of sneakers - brushing off his mother as he ran out of the house. He had planned to tell Veronica about what he and Betty had done, but he thought he had more time. At first, he’d started up the jalopy and peeled out of the driveway. But, halfway to the Pembrooke the old machine suddenly felt too slow. It was late, so there weren’t many people out and Archie was able to quickly ditch the vehicle on the side of the road and take off running. His feet slapped against the pavement as he urged himself further and faster. He gave a dismissive wave to the doorman and sprinted up the stairs to the penthouse suite - there was no time to wait for an elevator. 

Outside of her door Archie knocked as quickly as he could - actively forgetting that Hiram and Hermione were home. Hermione was the one to open the door, leaving the chain lock strung in place. He didn’t need any words for her to explain what this meant. In that small, simple act of leaving the lock in Hermione told him  _ She’s not here, and you are no longer welcome.  _

“S-sorry.” Archie half-spoke, winded as he backed up into the hallway. There was only one place Veronica would go now - and somehow he felt even more rushed after knowing he’d get there too late. 

By the time Archie made it to Pop’s the front and back of his shirt was clinging to his skin and a small pool of sweat had collected on top of his brow. It was a cool evening, as far as spring nights go, but he felt no comfort in the breeze. A bell announced his arrival before he could, and he was greeted by small nods from the few customers enjoying the chock’lit shoppes 24 hour service. Pop merely gave him a small shake of his head.

“I don’t think Veronica is open to seeing you right now, Archie.” He said, his voice still sounding almost artificially optimistic. No matter what happened Pop found a way to speak with such a tone that people couldn’t help but be comforted after hearing him. 

“Why do you say that, Pop?” Pop’s face instantly fell, a rare occurrence. The last time he looked like that was the day of his father's funeral - and Archie hardly thought the two occasions were comparable.

“Something about… never seeing you again being too soon.” A polite euphemism for the colorful language Veronica likely used when she came into the shoppe, Archie’s sure. But he thanked Pop nonetheless and proceeded down to La Bonne Nuit in spite of the many warnings given to him. 

Downstairs, Veronica sat perched at the bar. Even though her eyes were stained red and she sat alone, she remained composed in her seat. Posture never slipping, and one clean napkin placed underneath her cup. The speakeasy had closed hours ago, meaning there was no one there to share her misery except for the amber liquid she was swirling around at the bottom of her glass. Based on the contents - or lack thereof - of the bottle beside her on the counter, she had been there a while. Her cheeks were flushed from the drink and she had pulled her hair back, though a few strands had fallen down into her face.

“Ronnie-” Archie sighed, instinctively moving towards her. She held one finger up and that single action both stopped and silenced him. Her nails, which were normally perfectly manicured, had chipped polish and frayed skin. An indicator that she had been biting them - something she hadn’t done since the first time her father was arrested three years ago. 

“Archie, please go away. You’re the last person I want to see right now.” Her voice sounded soft and small - two things Veronica Lodge was not known to be. She sounded more like a child afraid of their parents' wrath than she did the proud business woman she’d grown to be, and it struck him. Feeling akin to a clear slap in the face. The pain was unmistakable, though she tried to hide it, but what hurt him the most was the way she spoke his name. He and Veronica were constantly breaking up - or, at least, that’s how it felt. But it was never like this - she’d never said his name like  _ that.  _ Like the word was drenched in sickly sweet maple and she couldn’t stand the taste it had in her mouth.

Archie removed his jacket and placed it on the counter before taking a seat beside her. He watched as her body tensed being near him, when just hours before it would have melted at his touch. He moved to hold her hand, but she pulled it away with both the fierceness and the grace of a feline.

“Do you remember when my dad got shot? We were so new to this - to us. A-and I thought I wanted you to go, I told you to go. But you didn’t. You chose to stay. Because we- Ronnie we don’t walk away. We don’t  _ push each other away. _ ” His vision started to blur, both at the memory and at the possibility of coming so far with each other, just for it to end because of a stupid mistake. “We’re not over. This isn’t the end of us.”

Veronica paused, taking a drawn out sip of her drink and draining the remaining contents of the bottle into her glass, “We’re not the people we thought we were.” She didn’t look towards him, she didn’t want to. “You don’t love me, you can’t. Because this situation has made it abundantly clear that we don’t know each other at all. And I have no interest in sticking around to get to know someone who-” She had to stop to keep herself to keep herself from crying. He’d seen her cry countless times before, but she no longer felt safe beside him. 

“Someone who constantly makes me feel like second best.” She finally spit out the end of her sentence before finishing her drink and getting to her feet. After looking at him properly for the first time since he walked in she was able to recognize the pink in his eyes and how much he’d held back in an attempt to try and fight for them. But she didn’t feel bad for starting to walk away, she didn’t feel there was a  _ “them”  _ left to fight for. Not anymore. 

“Can I at least give you a ride home?” Archie offered as Veronica moved toward the door, clearly intoxicated as she staggered her steps. Her feet stopped together, her body standing in a perfect line, and she didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she reached over the counter and retrieved a bottle of tequila, sliding it into her bag with a single motion. 

“I don’t want anything from you.” Her voice practically sang as she ascended the steps up to the diner. The building had begun to feel all too small and she wanted air. To not be moping in a basement or surrounded by grease. 

Veronica started walking, unsure where she wanted to go. As long as it was away from _him._ The whole situation was humiliating. And it had nothing to do with the fact that when the tape arrived she ignorantly assumed it was another copy of outside the Pembrooke so she played it in the common area with her parents who had both turned to see her reaction as soon as the saga registered on the screen. Who she couldn’t show her real emotions to. From the moment she found out she had to compress her emotions, and her interest in that was gone. Which is probably how she ended up outside of 111 Elm Street. 

Confidently, and very aware of the scent of alcohol coming off of every inch of her body, Veronica knocked on the front door. Within seconds it opened, wide and welcoming.

“Hi, Mrs. Cooper,” Veronica smiled, “Is Jughead home?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Explain to me again why we’re walking right now, Veronica?” Jughead asked as they embarked on their eighth lap around the neighborhood. The night felt eternal, and Veronica wanted nothing more than the make it end. To wake up in the morning and have it all have been a dream. 

“We never do anything that's just the two of us - you ever think about that?” Her words sound far less poised than their usual sober tone, causing Jughead’s mouth to unconsciously slant in a lopsided smile. He’d never seen an unfiltered Veronica, only the version that she had deemed presentable to the masses. The two weren’t totally different, but this version was far more tolerable. Veronica took another long pull from the bottle before thrusting it towards Jughead, who did the same before he spoke again. 

“We’re not friends.” He said flatly. It was neither a harsh nor a cruel statement - they both knew it to be true. Archie and Betty loved Jughead and Veronica. And Jughead and Veronica loved Archie and Betty. Because of that, they both had love for each other - but they didn’t love each other. They barely even liked each other. 

“We… should become friends.” She hiccuped, balancing on the curb. In one hand she held her heels while the other she kept open for her turn with the bottle. Jughead couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the soft hiccuping sounds he’d heard outside of his door after he’d thrown Betty out, and because of that, he took another pull. 

Veronica Lodge was not someone he thought about often. He contemplated this now in his best effort to keep going home to Betty off of his mind. It wasn’t that Veronica wasn’t the type of person he would _want_ to think about - criminal parents aside, she was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Even now, barefoot and teetering around on a curb, he wouldn’t want to cross her. And he’d be lying if he said he’d never benefited from having her in his corner - whether or not it was just through association. But there were always much bigger things to be thinking about than the way her nose scrunched up after every shot or how when she fell silent for a while - without fail - he knew he could look over and see her fiddling with her pearl necklace, thinking. Fiddling, just like Betty did. 

“All of my friends are Serpents.” Jughead passed her the bottle, watching to see her nose crinkle. It was only in those small moments could you use words like _soft_ to describe her. Somehow, being a part of those moments made him feel special. Like he was finally being let into the Veronica Lodge club.

“Well, maybe _I_ should become a Ser-pent.” She over-enunciated the word, he turned to her and laughed. Cold and fierce as she may have been, Veronica was the furthest thing from a gang member that he could think of. Betty was barely a Serpent, and that was only through affiliation. In a similar sense, Archie only wore the tattoo and that was for protection purposes when he was behind bars. Veronica had no place in either of those two extenuating circumstances and - besides - she was so… _Park Avenue._

“I’m serious.” She stopped walking, and suddenly Jughead felt as though _he_ were the small one. The child about to be reprimanded. “They’re your family. This whole…” Her arms gestured widely, sloshing the liquid around inside of the bottle, “Betty and Archie thing… it sucks - it _really fucking sucks,_ but you have a whole hoard of people who think of you as blood who you can turn to when this turns dark. I don’t have that. I’m alone - you get that? I’m all alone now. All of my friends are defect-o from them, so much so that I’m drunk on a school night, and the only person I could think of to keep me company was you, Jughead. How pathetic am I?” 

His mind focused on how she said _when_ it turned dark, rather than _if_. Because they both knew it would - even if their minds elected to ignore it. Alcohol aside, they were both handling the loss relatively well and it was only a matter of time before the reality of it all hit them. And what then? She was right - who would be there for her when it did? They both knew there would be no way she would have said all of this sober - or even half a bottle ago. But here she was, at least 20% BAC, exposing herself in front of Jughead Jones - of all people, and speaking truths he would’ve happily avoided otherwise. And he wished she would have done this sooner. He wished he could have known this version of her sooner, under different circumstances. Because now, instead of thinking about how sad Veronica looks or how her whole face was flushed a delicate pink that dulled even the sharpest of her words, he was thinking about Betty. Yes. Even in this raw moment, he was thinking about Betty and wondering which loss hurt her more. Him? Or Veronica?

“C’mon, Veronica.” Jughead sighed, “You wear pearls. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear jeans and we can hear your heels clicking down the hallway. There’s no way a sober you would ever swap all of that for a leather jacket and a tattoo.” 

It’s then that Jughead considered his own words and history. There was once a time when he never thought he’d be a Serpent, either. There was a time when he made promises with pinkies and spit that he would never join the gang that ruined his family - so much so that he swore off any groups. He became _I’m weird, I’m a weirdo_ Jones to not become the man he was today. So why was it so impossible to imagine Veronica doing something similar? Besides, Cheryl became a Serpent. Anything was possible in Riverdale. 

“You have to be initiated.” He gave in. If Veronica Lodge wanted to join his family - especially after tonight - he was going to give her the best chance he could. 

“Cheryl wasn’t.” Her left hip jutted out a bit and she took another pull. 

“Cheryl fought with the Serpents against the Ghoulies. _That_ was her initiation.” 

Veronica nodded slowly as though she understood, though Jughead was uncertain she would even remember this conversation in the morning. “Just tell me what I have to do.”.

“You, Ms. Lodge,” Jughead laughed, throwing his arm over her shoulders. “Need to let me walk you home.” She hummed, and it wasn’t like Betty’s. Betty would hum in response when she didn’t know what to say, Veronica’s was a statement in and of itself. _Stop,_ Jughead thought to himself, _stop comparing them._ But he couldn’t stop - because maybe if the two of them were similar enough this night wouldn’t hurt as badly. 

X

Veronica did, in fact, regret the last half of the bottle of tequila in the morning. The halls were bright and crowded when they would normally be dim (and crowded). Crowded as far as Riverdale went, at least. She swallowed two more aspirin and leaned her head against the door of her locker. As much as she hated to admit it, it was a welcome pain. Because as long as her head was aching it was almost like she couldn’t feel her heart. 

_Get it together, Lodge,_ she thought to herself, _No one needs to know._ Even if she could still taste the tequila, she was going to get through this day. So much so that when she shut her locker and was immediately faced with Betty and Archie walking into the school, behaving as though last night was a relief to them rather than a nightmare, she forced on her most pleasant and practiced smile and walked away. _We don’t push each other away,_ Archie had said just hours ago in an attempt to save them. Veronica told herself she should be grateful for their behavior - it proved there was nothing left to save. But then why - _why_ did it still hurt so much? Maybe it was the hangover. Or maybe it wasn’t. Either way, she had no interest in staying to figure out which. Veronica readjusted her bag on her shoulder and soldiered on to her first class. 

By the time lunch rolled around, Veronica had hoped that the hangover would fade, but her brain was still throbbing in her head. Not to mention she felt like throwing up every time she saw Betty and Archie, but that was probably unrelated. When she walked into the cafeteria she realized that she didn’t have anywhere to sit - anywhere where she belonged, at least. And the dark pit that started to sink into her chest threatened to pull her into the ground entirely. Six feet under next to all her hopes for the future. It might’ve been a convincing pull - to just let herself collapse there and maybe let the suffering end, both physical and psychological. But she had no plans to let them win. Just as her father had said, she was a Lodge, through and through. And Lodge’s always appeared on top - no matter the psychological cost. So, she tried the next best thing. Veronica raised her head and placed one Louis Vuitton in front of the other until she was standing in front of what remained of the Southside Serpents. 

“Afternoon, Serpents.” She purred, placing both her tray and herself at the table. Everyone exchanged a similar look of confusion. One that didn’t say _what_ is she doing here as much as _why._ Jughead chuckled and turned to Veronica, his lips still curved in a sloppy smile.

“Uh, Ronnie,” The nickname came out so naturally, it was almost as though they’d been friends and abbreviating each others name their entire lives, “I’m sure a lot of us would love to have you join us at lunch but we kind of have to have this united front - you know, no outsiders.” His eyes flit across the cafeteria briefly and Veronica didn’t need more than a moment to understand. _Betty._ If only leathers were allowed at the table, Jughead could have a wall of family between himself and Betty if she tried to approach the table. _If_ she tried to approach the table - and she knew a part of him wished that she would. Even if only to get rejected, just to see her try one more time. Something that she wouldn’t do if Veronica was there. 

“C’mon Jug, let her stay.” A Serpent in the back howled, quickly backed by a band of others whistling and howling at her. Jughead laughed, holding up his hand.

“Let’s at least have her learn the laws first.”

Veronica nodded, “Okay, so teach me.” 

“Make her do the dance!” Sweet Pea shouted, and Jughead threw a dinner roll at him. Everyone else erupted into laughter and even Veronica found herself laughing. That is, until she started looking to her left to check if Archie was laughing too. That was when Veronica cleared her throat and excused herself from the table. She could survive one lunch in the library. Even if it meant she’d spend the entire time watching the door, just in case Archie decided to follow her in there. 

x

After school, Veronica met Jughead in Mr. Wesley’s classroom. Wesley left every day after the fifth period when he was done teaching, making it one of the most optimal places for students to claim both during and after school when they needed a place to meet. Particularly one that _locked._ Though, that was neither here nor there for Jughead and Veronica. Jughead leaned against the front desk of the room with his arms folded over his chest while Veronica set her bag on the floor and positioned herself on top of one of the student desks. 

“The Serpents have six laws.” He started, writing the numbers up on the board. There was no pause for small talk or pleasantries, which she appreciated. “They’re easy to memorize - but they’re difficult to shout back.”

“I’m sorry - _shout_?” Jughead turned back to face her with a smirk that said he had been waiting all day to hear her reaction to that statement.

“That’s right, in the rather innuendo words of Sweet Pea - the Serpents will have you screaming in more ways than one.” He returned to writing on the board, “Alright so we have one - a Serpent never shows cowardice. No Serpent stands alone.”

“Isn’t that two?” 

“Not to us.” Veronica started writing down the law as he spoke, “This isn’t just about fights, Ron, it’s about beliefs and ideals too. The Serpents have to stand up for what we believe in and stand together when we do.”

 _And if I disagree?_ Veronica contemplated to herself - though, she already knew the answer. _Do it anyway._ Mobs and gangs weren’t as different as they thought.

“The second law - if a Serpent is killed or imprisoned, their family will be taken care of.” Veronica laughed at this, “Are you not taking this seriously? Because we can stop.”

“No, Jug I am!” She said, still laughing, “I’m just trying to picture becoming a Serpent and having to explain how my death would mean your eternal protection over Hiram Lodge.” 

By the time they finished getting through all six of the laws, Jughead and Veronica had likely broken a record for sober time spent together. And neither of them particularly minded. Jughead was erasing the chalkboard - covering the laws with random letters before erasing them so that the remaining streaks wouldn’t expose the Serpent doctrine to Mr. Wesley’s first-period class and Veronica was thumbing through the pages of her notebook. This mini-lesson only took up a few lines of space, but that wasn’t what she was looking at. She was looking at all the torn pieces of paper that she’d ripped out for notes in class to Betty. All the plans she’d scribbled in the margins so she’d remember. Before the laws, her notebook was a museum of the person she was yesterday morning. Why did that girl feel so different? When she looked up she saw Jughead observing her, his eyes were focused but less on an object and more on a thought. Like he could visualize his own words if he stared there long enough. 

“They’re not even grieving our relationships.” He said finally, his eyes still fixated on a point just a hair above Veronica’s shoulder. “They’ve just moved on. Without us.”

Veronica gulped. She had been thinking something similar throughout the day. But, for the most part, she attempted to banish the thought. There was no space left for her to care, and she had no interest in letting either of them live, as her father would say, _rent-free in her mind._ Still, as much as she didn’t want to, she found her mind wandering to Archie and Betty. To their hands brushed against each other in the hallways and the complete lack of effort on both parts to talk to either her or Jughead the entire day. To how while she had been feeling trapped and weighed down by the tight feeling pulling her chest to her feet, they had been walking around… free. And she didn’t want that for Jughead, she wanted better for him. 

“Jughead, stop it.” She struggled to keep her words even, “Stop acting like we lost something. We haven’t. They’re the ones losing, we just can’t see it because they have each other to cling to.” He sat with her statement for a moment, tossing it around in his head. It was bullshit, and both of them knew it. Throughout the entirety of their respective relationships Veronica and Jughead had lived with a small seed of fear - fear that they were second choice, the available options. A fear that got buried in kisses and kind words. When the tape came in, it was almost like a relief - for the first moment. Because they could stop fighting to be picked over and over again. Every day. But then that moment of relief passed and they were both able to realize what they were witnessing - all of their worst fears and insecurities being confirmed. That if Betty and Archie were ever _truly_ given a choice - they’d pick each other. Which they proved, again and again. Whether that be in video tapes or the backseat of cars they chose each other, and Veronica and Jughead were left alone. 

“What do we cling to?” Jughead asked, eyes closed as he forced hot tears to stay behind his lash line. He wasn’t ready to cry. Not here, anyways.

Veronica walked up to him, drawing him into her arms and holding him how she had held Archie so many times before. Her head even tucked beneath his chin in the same way, something she’d previously thought of as _just another way we fit, Archiekins._ Her heart clenched at the thought and she found herself struggling to keep herself together.

“Each other.”


	3. Chapter 3

La Bonne Nuit had never resembled its old Southside counterpart more as Serpents crawled up on the tables and hoisted glass cups above their heads. It was almost as though the White Worm had never died and instead was reincarnated in the bones of Veronica’s speakeasy. Rather than harboring business owners dread at the sound of adolescent glass shattering and after-hours underage drinking, Veronica was just glad. Plain and simple - she was glad to be surrounded by people. Even if those people happened to be the chaos storm of Serpents on initiation night. 

Jughead was not holding back for her initiation - and neither was she. A vein over his left eyebrow was made more evident with each scream and Veronica could feel her entire body when she yelled right back at him. It was meant to be a challenge, but it felt liberating. She’d been needing to scream, shout, and yell at the top of her lungs ever since that tape had shown up at her doorstep. Being a part of something made her feel free.

“ _WHAT IS THE FIFTH LAW?”_ Jughead yelled, moving a step closer to Veronica’s face. A devilish grin smeared across her lips as the rest of the Serpents hooted and howled pure chaos in the background. Reggie, who was good enough to stay manning the bar, struggled to keep his face even. He and Veronica working together made sense to both of them - in fact, it was one of the few things that felt right in lieu of all that had gone wrong so far their senior year. But at this moment, serving bottles of bourbon to a gang of teenagers as the once-composed Veronica Lodge screamed her heart out, working together didn’t make much sense to Reggie at all.

“A SERPENT NEVER BETRAYS THEIR OWN.” She returned, practically exchanging the same breath with Jughead at their close proximity. 

“ _WHAT IS THE SIXTH LAW?”_ The corner of his mouth quirked up as he waited for her response. Five more words and she would be in. Five more words and there would be one more person to stand between him and Betty in the hallways so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much every time he imagined she called his name. 

“IN UNITY THERE IS STRENGTH!” She finished triumphantly. Veronica was in. Her hands shot up into the air above her head as she fell into Jughead, wrapping her arms around his neck while he lifted her. She was in - she wasn’t alone. Not anymore, at least. Now she was a part of something that no one could take away from her - not her father, not Archie Andrews, not Betty Cooper. Not anyone. When she pulled away, Jughead held out a worn leather jacket for her to slip into, which she did in one eager motion. The leather was smooth in the sense that years of use had made the material pliable - but it wasn’t without its own scars. Small indentations and lines ran through the jacket, mapping out stories of where this jacket had been and what it had done before her. And now it was hers, this was her small piece of Serpent history.

Sweet Pea moved up to the front of the crowd, the skin at the top of his cheeks had flushed a soft rose-like color, exposing his taste for dark liquor. He gently lifted Veronica’s hand and twirled her, pulling her in close at the end. 

“You know, we Serpents like to tangle together.” He all-but yelled into her ear, making sure he was heard over the crowd. Veronica smiled, stepping away from him to lift a drink from the table, which she eagerly brought to her lips, finishing its contents in a single, swift, motion. 

“Well, you’d better be careful,” She said, peering at him over the glass, “I might bite.” Sweet Pea’s eyebrow cocked up as his face shifted from confident to a more confused expression.

“Promise?” He whispered in response as Veronica felt herself being pulled away. 

In the corner of the bar, where the sound of the party was almost diluted, Reggie stood in front of Veronica. He looked down at her with challenging eyes that said _what the hell are you doing_ with every single blink. She waited for him to say it - to ask her _what the hell_ she was doing, but he remained unmoving. Asking the question with only his face.

Finally, Veronica sighed, “I’m tired, Reg.” She started to explain. “I’m tired of being Hiram’s daughter. Or Betty’s best friend. Or Archie’s girlfriend. I’m _Veronica Lodge_ damnit - I want to be a part of something that makes me feel like I belong to something, not someone. They don’t get to leave me all alone.”

Reggie’s expression softened, and she looked away as his eyes scanned her face. He knew. Of course, he knew. Archie couldn’t talk about this with Jughead, maybe he could with Munroe. But at the end of the day, if he wanted someone to understand him when he talked about Veronica, he’d have to turn to Reggie. Veronica wondered what Reggie was thinking now - was he considering what lines he could cross? Or was he already crossing them just by working with her that night?

“You’re not alone.” He finally said, brushing her hair out of her face. His hands lingered and he fought the urge to pull her in. Veronica considered all of the nice things she could say to him. Both real and not real. How she could sink into him and tell him she should’ve stayed with him all along, just to see if he would choose her over Archie. Just to be chosen. How she could explain to him that she had to do this - because as long as she was surrounded by people she couldn’t feel the gaping hole Archie had torn right through her chest. She couldn’t _let_ herself feel it. Or how - even if she wanted to go away with Reggie right now and live life the easy way she was probably meant to, all she could see in him was Archie. So if she kept talking to him she’d end up falling apart anyways. Instead of saying any of these things, she didn’t say anything at all. She merely pulled his hands away from her face and slipped back into the party. Where the music and the people were so loud she couldn’t hear her thoughts. And as she walked away, Reggie felt himself being left - once again - by Veronica Lodge. Veronica was pouring herself another shot when she looked up and watched Reggie walk out of the establishment. She made that shot a double. 

Half a bottle later Veronica found her way into Cheryl Blossom’s lap. She and Toni joined the party somewhere between six and eight shots. Cheryl was quick to reach the same level Veronica was at - but that was more or less due to her being a lightweight. Veronica rested her forehead against Cheryl’s as Cheryl ran her hand up and down Veronica’s arm. The two of them had a unique unspoken relationship - not unlike the one Veronica had previously shared with Jughead. Being cut from the same cloth, Veronica and Cheryl might not have been attached at the hip every single day, but when one of them needed it? They were always the first one by the others side. 

“I love you, Cheryl.” Veronica hummed, swaying to the music. 

“And I love you, Ronnie.” Cheryl smiled, planting a slippery red kiss on Veronica’s cheek. Toni laughed to the side, whispering something in Jughead’s ear as the pair looked after their far more intoxicated counterparts. 

“Alright, V, I think it’s about time to get you home,” Jughead said, stepping forward and mock-knighting her with his arm, “Congratulations, Ms. Lodge, you’re a Serpent now.”

“C’mon, let’s go.” Sweet Pea huffed as he helped Veronica off of Cheryl’s lap - where Toni happily claimed her place. 

The pair sloppily made their way back to the Pembrooke, both pink-cheeked and warm with alcohol, giving them a faux sense of immortality. Above them, the sky stretched out for miles, casting out light from the stars as though they would never go dim. Veronica stopped to admire it. She’d never paused to notice the sky - in all three years she’d lived in Riverdale, not once could she recall looking up. In the city, there was so much light pollution all she could see was the dark cast of evening enshrouding upon the moon. She wondered if she might miss it - the stars when she moved back to the city. Or if there was so much she was ready to leave behind that she wouldn’t even notice. If her mind would be too busy missing the boy with red hair and the girl with the ponytail that she wouldn’t even stop to notice the sky was empty again.

“Come up with me?” She asked, leaning into Sweet Pea on the base floor of the Pembrooke, “My parents aren’t home.”

“You’re drunk.” He said, pushing her hair back out of her face. A common trend for the evening.

“So are you.” She returned, standing on her toes until her lips met his. This _certainly_ was not Archie. Sweet Pea wasn’t a bulldog. He didn’t live out childhood superhero fantasies at night. He didn’t smell like he bathed in the sun and dried himself off with the sweet air of the maple woods. He was a Serpent, with a switchblade, who smelt of motor oil. And for that, she was grateful. She pulled herself further into the kiss, it was warm - like Archie. And he tasted of rum - like Archie. But she didn’t want to think about Archie any more than she already was. She gently started to suck his bottom lip as she pulled away, brushing her teeth against his lip as they separated. _Warm, maple Archie_ raced through her mind. Instead of pulling back into a kiss, she took his bottom lip between her teeth, using light pressure to grab and drag it down a bit. A small sense of accomplishment coursed through her when he practically shuddered into her.

“Damnit, Lodge,” He moaned as they ran up the stairs together, slamming the door to her apartment shut.

X

When Veronica woke up, she was fully clothed beneath her covers and Sweet Pea was gone. Another PG-13 evening for the books, and a small part of her was disappointed. Sitting on the nightstand was a full glass of water and two small white pills on top of a sticky note that read “take these”. She did as she was instructed, finishing the glass of water. 

Hanging off the edge of her bed was her Serpent jacket, waiting to greet her good morning. She smiled looking at it. Hungover or not - Veronica was about to be the center of conversation at Riverdale High. And as long as the words “break-up” or “father” weren’t involved, she actually didn’t mind. 

Rather than draping herself in preppy skirts and Park Avenue blazers, Veronica slipped into a low cut, fitted black top, and her favorite clean black skirt. The final accessories were her favorite red-bottom heels, the Serpent jacket, and - of course - a string of pearls. 

Hiram and Hermione were both at the dining table when Veronica glid into the room, filling her tumbler with the morning’s brew of coffee.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hiram asked, nodding towards his daughter’s newest addition of outerwear. 

“Going to school.” She responded, screwing on her lid and walking out the door before he had the chance to say anything else. 

Veronica’s grand entrance as a newly minted Serpent may not have been as earth-shattering as she had anticipated, but she did garner a considerable collection of shocked stares and double-takes. Including Archie Andrews’, who had practically doubled over at the sight of her. With each step her heels clicked to the anthem of her own social emancipation. She moved towards her friends - Jughead and Sweet Pea - who were talking together just outside of Jughead’s first period classroom. Both boys appeared to have recovered nicely from last night's liquid celebration. Before she had the opportunity to greet her fellow Serpents, Archie stepped between her and them. His eyes were pensive as he took in her new appearance and he tousled his hair in a very Archie-like fashion.

“Veronica, what are you doing?” His hands shoved into his pockets and Veronica’s hand found it’s way up to her pearl necklace, nervously moving the stones between her fingers. “You’re a leader not a follower.”

Behind his shoulder she could see Jughead and Sweet Pea had taken notice to their conversation and were watching carefully in case they needed to step in. Acting the part of the family she so desperately sought for herself. When she spoke, her voice was shakier than thought it would be, giving away more of her emotions than she cared for Archie to know.

“Guess neither of us knows the other as well as we thought.” Although he could read her better than anyone else she knew, Veronica maintained her gaze with Archie’s to ensure the certainty of her statement set-in. His shoulders sagged slightly and the muscle in his jaw twitched. She wondered what words he wasn’t letting himself say. Was there another apology just waiting on his tongue? What would she do if there was? Would she fall back into him? Would giving back into him make her weak? She didn’t want to think anymore, and she most certainly didn’t want to look at Archie Andrews’ and his sad brown eyes that made her feel like she had just kicked his dog Vegas in the ribs. So before he could speak again and say that apology that she hoped he was holding back, she brushed past him. Moving determined towards Sweet Pea. She hadn’t fully thought out her actions before pulling Sweet Pea down by his collar and dragging him into a kiss. One that she hoped would keep Archie and his unspoken words far, _far_ away. Sweet Pea knew, in that moment, she was using him. But he didn’t resist. He leaned deeper into the kiss, their foreheads touching and the smell of Veronica’s shampoo flooding all of his senses.

Archie staggered backwards at the sight of them, behaving as though he had been dealt a physical blow to the chest. He considered every time he had been hit, mauled, and beaten to a pulp in his life, but nothing - _nothing -_ had hurt like this. He stood there, watching the girl he loved kiss someone else. And he couldn’t do anything about it. He lost the right to do anything but stand there in pain. 


	4. Chapter 4

Betty sat perched at the edge of his bed. They’d been there so many times before, talking about the future, about relationships, about life, right there surrounded by the comfort and familiarity of his navy sheets. It felt foreign to him now, her presence in his room. Like she was an unwelcome visitor absorbing his space - breathing air he’d reserved for someone else. 

“Why do we feel weird?” She asked, grabbing hold of his hand, “We don’t have anything to be worried about anymore - we can give us a real chance.” She’s lying, and he knew it. But Betty was always better than him at accepting reality - at realizing that Jughead and Veronica were now out of their reach. All of their apologies, tears, and texts would go right through them. Nothing they said would stick. But Archie still couldn’t stop himself from thinking it should be Veronica perched at the edge of his bed. She should be lying in his lap, his fingers running through her hair as they talked about moving back to Riverdale. How their kids would grow up right across the street from Betty and Jughead’s - right here in the house his father had built. 

“C’mon, Arch.” Betty said, speaking more quietly this time. 

“She kissed him. Right in front of me. Like I was nothing.” His voice was empty and he couldn’t shake the image out of his mind. A week ago, every part of his future was drenched in Veronica Lodge. His weekends, his holidays, his  _ heart  _ all belonged to her. And now she was kissing Sweet Pea in the hallway like he was nothing. Like  _ they  _ were nothing.

“We kissed when we all were still dating.” Was Betty’s attempt to make him feel better. But it didn’t work. Maybe that was what she told herself to fill the empty space in her chest. Maybe she had to remind herself that this wasn’t something they could fix - that they all needed time to heal and grow. Even if that meant growing away from each other. But Archie didn’t want to remember how his stupid, spontaneous lips were the reason Veronica was out there, kissing Serpents and breaking his heart. He didn’t want to remember that she deserved to break his heart - because he broke hers first. 

When he looked up at her, Betty was watching him. She had this sixth sense about him - they used to joke about it as children. She could always tell when he was down or when something was wrong. He didn’t want to risk losing her too. He had already let so much slip through his fingers.

“Okay.” He agreed, eyes focused on his hands. Hands he’d wanted to create with, hands his father had taught him to build with, hands that had done nothing but destroy.

“Okay?” She confirmed with a smile. Betty leaned forward and kissed him. It was small and soft, like a reflex. But it didn’t linger, both of them were too busy thinking about kissing other people. When they pulled apart Archie didn’t feel anything, and he couldn’t remember if he did the first time either. Instead of talking about anything further, Betty curled into his arms and they started laying there in silence. Their bodies were stiff beside each other so that they were more similar to a pair of corpses laying together in a morgue than a boy and girl in each other's arms. 

Archie did eventually fall asleep, the only indication of which being the steadying of his breath and the relaxation of his muscles. But Betty never slumbered. There was once a time when the walls of Archie’s room were the safest place she could think of. When his arms were the only place she wanted to be. That felt like lifetimes ago - and trying to dredge up those feelings now in an attempt to stop missing Jughead wasn’t doing anything to actually help her stop. If anything, it made her miss him more. Because now she was thinking about him in ways she never did - even after their many breakups before. Now she was thinking about him in final ways that said  _ I will never love someone as much as I love you. _

When the sun started to cast over the maple trees, Betty slipped out of bed. In their adolescence, sneaking between her own house and Archie’s was practically second nature. She wasn’t used to being allowed to come and go as she pleased. Because of this, she slowly worked open his bedroom window and climbed down the side of the house just as she used to. Maybe for old times sake; maybe because the hallway leading up to his bedroom still felt like it belonged to Veronica. Fortunately for Betty, the backdoor to her house was still unlocked when she slid into the dining room. Alice no longer made it a habit to check if the doors were locked - it was in their experience in Riverdale that anything vile that wanted to come inside would, whether or not they latched the doors and locked down the windows. Besides, no petty criminal dared to enter the Murder House on Elm Street. Betty took a moment to pause, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the patio door, letting her breath fog up with the morning dew. She might not have seen him if he hadn’t said anything.

“Coming home from Archie’s?” Jughead asked, startling her. He was sitting in the kitchen, a piece of toast in his hand. Of course he was awake - she wondered if he ever slept. He never looked at her anymore, so she couldn’t tell if his eyes had sunken in or if they were dressed with new dark circles. She wished that he would look at her - but she was also glad he didn’t. Because a part of her wasn’t sure if she wanted to see the damage around his eyes because she cared - or because she wanted to make sure he was suffering as much as she was. Which was a stupid thought, because of course he was. Otherwise he would look at her.

“Jug-” She started, stepping into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it,” He stood up, “Just casual family talk.” Jughead threw the rest of his breakfast in the trash and quickly moved back upstairs - slinking around in the shadows of the morning. Betty just stood there, uncertain of what she was feeling or what she  _ should  _ have been feeling. Because she was standing there, on the brink of tears and all she could think was  _ Jughead never throws away his food.  _ And what a stupid thought that was to have. She thought about walking over to the garbage bin and pulling it out of the trash - but for what? To keep a piece of him here? That was the first interaction they’d had since and he’d called it  _ family talk.  _ Her jaw clenched at the new memory. She didn’t want to have short conversations in passing with Jughead - she didn’t want holidays and reunions. She wanted a lifetime, and she’d let that slip out of her grasp.

Betty’s body went slack as she crumpled to the floor. Her mind reeled back to their argument a few years ago, the first time they had broken up for real.  _ How many times are we going to push each other away?  _ She had asked,  _ Until it sticks.  _ Had it felt this final then? Her lower lip trembled and the tears she’d worked so hard to keep back began flowing.  _ You’re the only man for me,  _ it felt true when she’d said it - it  _ was  _ true, even now. Then what was she doing with Archie? Her head hurt, it felt like her brain was being grated up inside, and she didn’t even notice how violently she was shaking until she felt herself being steadied in someone else's arms.

“What is it Betty? Are you hurt?” Alice asked, helping her daughter to her feet. When it came to Cooper women, anger was the emotion they tried to keep hidden to themselves, swaddled underneath pillowed screams and crescent-shaped scars. But sorrow? Their sorrow demanded attention. It demanded to be heard.

Alice held Betty close against her chest, stroking her hair until the shaking stopped. Eventually, the tears stopped as well, leaving Betty still and empty. They stood like that little longer, then Betty pulled back and faced her mother. Their relationship had grown and wilted so much over the years - where were they now? Silent? Civil? Just waiting for her to graduate and move far away without turning back? 

“Mom,” Betty started, looking down at her hands, “When you chose dad over FP - did you do that because you stopped loving FP?” Alice pulled her daughter back into a hug, rubbing her hand up and down her arm. 

“I never stopped loving FP.” She said after a pause. “I married Hal because he matched the life I wanted.”

_ There we go again,  _ Betty thought,  _ Never learning from our parents mistakes. _


	5. Chapter 5

Veronica’s hand expertly reclasped the back of her skirt, a motion that she’d returned to like riding a bike. After all of her rendezvous with Archie he’d typically been the one to zip up her dresses and help her back into her clothes, but she couldn’t expect that level of chivalry from everyone. Especially not a Serpent. Her shoulders pushed back as she watched him tug back on his dark grey shirt, their silence settling in on them. They didn’t talk much - but she wasn’t particularly interested in conversation. Particularly not the one they both had in mind. 

Sweet Pea lowered his head, running his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to talk any more than she did, but it needed to be said. They both knew it.

“You’re using me for rebound sex, aren’t you?” He lifted his chin to look at her. To find any glimmer of hope in her expression that might indicate what he was saying wasn’t true. But it was - and, to be fair, he was using her too. Josie had left a year ago and he was still sulking around like it happened last week. When he was with Veronica, he didn’t feel as alone. 

“If I remember correctly, you came onto me.” She laced her fingers through his in a vain attempt to save whatever it was that they were doing. Because whatever it was, was working - or, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe every time she moved, every time she  _ breathed  _ she thought of Archie. But it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t matter anymore - him with his empty promises of forever couldn’t take up any more of her time. 

A small laugh escaped Sweet Pea’s lips and he rested his head on top of hers, “I’ve done the fling thing before - with Josie. I don’t think I can do it again.”

“Friends?” 

“Friends.” He agreed, pulling her more closely into a hug. When they separated the two shook hands, like a couple of children agreeing to share crackers at lunch, rather than two near-adults ending a brief fling. Veronica considered saying something to comfort him - about their timing being wrong or how she’d thought she was ready, but Sweet Pea wasn’t the type to need baseless words, and she wasn’t the type to say them. They got up together and rode over to La Bonne Nuit in relative silence. Inside the club was empty outside of Reggie, who was wiping down the counter in front of Cheryl, and a few Serpents in a back corner booth, who Sweet Pea joined upon entering. Veronica opted to move beside Cheryl, who was enjoying a cherry-red-colored drink. 

“No Toni?” She asked, grabbing herself a glass from the other side of the bar. Cheryl shrugged, lifting the glass up to her lips. It was evident that she drank from the same spot on the cup each time, making the ring of red lipstick more and more prominent with every sip. 

“She’s with Jughead.” She responded. Her voice was calm - trusting, even. Veronica remembered a time when she was like that with Archie. Something that now felt like blind trust as she never thought twice about him being alone with Betty. As she ate up every word of reassurance he’d told her. Because she trusted him - like Cheryl trusted Toni. “I’ll be heading up to Pop’s soon to meet them if you’d like to join us.”

“I’m okay, Cher, thanks.” Veronica ran a finger along the rim of her glass - did she drink this much when she was with Archie? When did a bottle of bourbon replace a milkshake in her story? 

Cheryl cooed her tolken  _ toodles  _ and stepped away from the bar, leaving Veronica with Reggie. Reggie who continued to look down at her with those same careful eyes that asked the same question they always did. The same question she asked herself.  _ What the hell are you doing? _

“Seriously, Veronica? Sweet Pea?” He shook his head, leaning onto the counter to meet her gaze. Veronica’s eyes lowered, watching as her hands crumpled and flattened out the napkin in front of her.

“Did you ever consider how I might only have been with him because he reminded me of someone?” She asked. It was almost true. It was more that he  _ didn’t  _ remind her of someone - that he was the exact  _ opposite  _ of someone, coupled with the fact that he was there and available that brought her to him. But she imagined the dark hair and Reggie’s ego might be enough to make him think she was talking about him. And she was right. Reggie straightened out a bit.

“Oh?” He spoke before fully processing her words, followed by a more comprehensive, “Oh..”. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned away from her.

“I can’t be your Archie rebound again.” As soon as he said it he wanted to take it back. Archie was his friend - his  _ best  _ friend, this wasn't the time to even think about getting back together with Veronica Lodge. 

Veronica jerked her head to the side, “God, can people stop saying that?” Her voice sounded as exasperated with the notion as she felt. They weren’t wrong, but in her mind being with anyone right now was better than being alone. “Me and Archie didn’t break up - he cheated on me with my best friend. There’s no rebounding or bouncing back from that. All I can do now is move forward.” She finished the contents of her drink in a single gulp. 

“And that means sleeping with Sweet Pea?” He spoke more softly now as he stepped around the counter to stand directly in front of her. 

“If that’s what it takes.” Her tone was final - because a Lodge never went back on a decision they’d already made. Still, she didn’t stop him from taking her arms up in his own. 

“You’re better than this.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Before she could disagree with him again, he pressed his lips against hers. His hands moved up to her face, drawing her closer into him. At first, she didn’t know how to react. The kiss was slow and easy, and he tasted of November - of the last time she had gone without Archie and she had let herself move on with him. She wanted the cinematic fireworks. Warmth.  _ Desire.  _ But when they pulled apart and she caught her breath, it was just a kiss, and she had to fight the urge to wipe the taste of him off of her lips. Still, she began to lean back into him, acting as if she tried hard enough she could  _ make  _ that feeling with him - the same way she was trying to force a recovery with Sweet Pea. But before she got the chance to test her artificial romance, Jughead appeared beside them. 

“Hate to interrupt whatever is going on here but… they found Mr. Honey.” He said, directing his words at Veronica and lowering his voice at the end of his sentence.

“Oh my god.” She breathed, immediately rising from her place at the bar. She turned to relay a half-hearted apology to Reggie, but he was already walking back to his place behind the counter. The two of them worked - everything about them worked together and made sense and was easy. But she didn’t want him. 

Veronica followed Jughead up to his motorcycle and didn’t think twice about getting on the back. She held on as he drove them out to Fox Forrest, not once stopping to talk about Sweet Pea or, now, Reggie. She appreciated the silent understanding they’d always shared. An understanding that explained how she knew to not mention how he was always up in the middle of the night or smuggling bottles out of La Bonne Nuit - bottles that she left out just for him. In turn, he knew not to talk about or mention anyone she did or didn’t sleep with. Because this wasn’t about recovery for them, it was about survival. No matter what it took. 

When they arrived at the scene it was still crawling with officers and reporters, flashing cameras and yellow caution tape. Veronica figured she should be used to this - the smell of death and the lack of crunch beneath leaves wet with blood. But she wasn’t - and that’s where she and Betty differed. Betty could deal with death, she could go to morgues and look at corpses without a second thought if it meant it would help her crack a case. But Veronica? Veronica looked at the blood-clot wounds on the corpse in front of her and all she saw was the similarities between this body and every other one she’d seen. Death was a universal thing to her - death was Midge, and Jason, and photos of Dilton Doiley in the woods. She saw people where Betty saw clues.

“They’re pulling from the original story I wrote for the University of Iowa,” He explained to her. He knew that - unlike with Betty - he would have to walk Veronica through the investigation. But working with her was better than working alone. Besides, talking it through with her might help him slow down and think. “I can give you a copy so we can see how much inspiration they’re going to take from it, but, in the story, we’re all indirectly involved in Mr. Honey’s death.”

“And we left him out to rot in the woods?”

“No, we’re much better at hiding bodies than this.” A few deputies turned their heads at this statement, but their attention didn't last. “Betty and I found this video of people dressed up as all of us stabbing a man labeled Mr. Honey. We weren’t sure if it was really him until…” His voice trailed off.

“Betty?” She asked, curious as to why he’d take her along for the investigation if him and Nancy Drew were still working on it together.

“Before.” He clarified, no longer meeting her eyes.

“Right. Before.” Veronica cleared her throat, attempting to move the conversation forward, “Who do you think did it?” It was a stupid question, but it was better than lingering on  _ before.  _

“Whoever is filming the videos I’m sure.” As he responded, a car door shut behind them. They both turned to see Betty walking up towards the scene, looking more timid as she approached the pair. 

Betty had never been at a loss for words, she was raised by two writers and had so many fleeting thoughts she often spoke them or wrote them down before they were gone. But as she walked towards Jughead and Veronica she found her mind blank and her throat closed, effectively muting her and her thoughts. She tried to recall every time she’d seen the pair of them alone together - much less alone together willingly. Before two weeks ago it was almost never. Now? She saw them together constantly. In the lunchroom, the library, and now at crime scenes. Before, when she was around Jughead she could  _ feel  _ his presence. It was like a steady current of electricity - her own personal source of energy. But now when she looked at him all she felt was a twisting in her chest. It could’ve been longing, agony, or the absence of electricity. But whatever it was, it hurt more now than it did before. 

“You brought Veronica along on an investigation?” Her voice was quiet, as though making too much noise might scare him away, “Even broken up we always did this together.”

Jughead scoffed, “We used to do a lot of things together, Betty. I’m sure you can do them with Archie now.” He grabbed Veronica’s elbow and started to lead her away towards Charles to ask about any evidence his team might have found at the site, but not before Betty could see Veronica turn her head to look at her with her eyebrows all knit up together in a pained expression. 

In an attempt to shake the look on Veronica’s face and Jughead’s words off of her, Betty approached one of the officers. The one furthest away from Jughead and Veronica on the other side of the body.

“Can you tell me what you know about this case?” She looked up at the officer over her notepad, fighting to keep her focus forward, rather than to the side where the two people she loved but couldn’t talk to were existing - thriving, maybe- without her. 

“The body was called in by some geocachers along with this broken compass. The needle was  _ bent  _ to point upwards.”

“You mean north?”

“No - up.” He pointed with his index finger for emphasis. She nodded and took note of this. Betty ended the conversation by asking if she could stay around the scene for a bit, which he agreed to as long as she promised not to touch anything and call someone over if she found anything of interest. The Riverdale department had learned better than to question her or Jughead’s presence on a case. She pretended to kneel down beside the body as she looked up at Veronica and Jughead walking away. Veronica mounted Jughead's motorcycle effortlessly, filling Betty’s space like it was never hers to begin with, and the two drove away. Fast and far from Betty, leaving her only with her thoughts and Mr. Honey’s body. 

The sun gave out after an hour and Betty stayed at the scene, looking out at where the corpse had been. A call from Archie was coming in on her phone and she quickly dismissed it. Something about these woods demanded authenticity - she couldn’t play the part of the girl-next-door out here. Tired, she looked up to the trees, casting the light from her flashlight up to them. That’s when she saw them. Up in the trees, six masks painted to match her friends, six masks that had murdered Mr. Honey, were staring down at her.


	6. Chapter 6

New York was aptly branded the concrete jungle for its forests of skyscraping buildings and its serious deficiency in all things unrefined. While Central Park was decently green _-_ as far as urban Manhattan went - the most climbing a city kid participated in was up and down their fire escape. Veronica used to rattle on about how the biggest shock after moving to Riverdale wasn’t it’s small size or lack of a shopping center - it was all of the trees. One hazy afternoon Archie taught her to climb them - she often romanticized the memory to be more than bark scratching her skin and ants threatening to invade her personal space because when they both finally got up in the branches, the fractured sunlight made patterns against Archie’s skin, and the sight was so beautiful she thought it made the whole thing worth it. When they went to Pop’s afterward, Veronica beamed to Betty and Jughead about her newfound gift for lifting herself up into the branches - a skill she greatly exaggerated at the time. She never thought she’d be called up to do it - especially not since Jughead challenged her story with a _I’m not sure if you noticed, Veronica, but everyone here learned to do that when they were like… five._

At first, when Betty called, Veronica turned her phone over and walked away. She wanted to ignore it - just as she had every other text and call from her since she’d watched the video. The moment she hit play on that tape Veronica Lodge had nothing left to say to her best friend. But something about this call was different. Maybe it was the look they’d exchanged in the woods or the time that had passed, but this time Veronica turned back around and answered the phone. An act she’d quickly regret, as on the other end of the line Betty quickly began explaining her situation. _There’s all of these masks in the trees and I couldn’t think of anyone else who could get them down -_ Before Veronica could even think of a reason to say no, she was changing into the same incognito outfit she’d worn when she broke Cheryl out of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy and driving out to the space in the woods where she and Jughead had been just hours before.

In the clearing, Betty anxiously checked the time on her phone. She would be lying if she said she had expected Veronica to answer, much less agree to help her. Especially given how late it was - what was she doing awake? Was she still with Jughead? Betty tried to keep the idea out of her mind, but it was always there, creeping in. When she saw them in the cafeteria, in Pop’s after school, and investigating in the woods. 

Veronica’s car lock made her presence known before she herself made an appearance. Betty silently handed off a flashlight to her as soon as she got close and the pair wondered if they would even exchange words the entire time.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come,” Betty bit at the skin inside of her cheek as Veronica began to mount the base of the first tree, “You’re the only person I know who can climb trees.” Her eyes followed as Veronica ascended into the branches, reaching at the first clump of masks. 

“Kevin.” Veronica spoke as she settled into the branches, “Kevin is the only person you know who _can’t_ climb a tree.” The first mask she got ahold of bore her own cartoonish face and a chill went down her spine before she tossed it down to where Betty was waiting to catch it. 

Betty traced the features of the mask with her hand, looking up at Veronica as she maneuvered into the next tree over, holding a flashlight between her teeth. She was right, there were countless other Riverdale residents who were better fit to be navigating the sagging limbs of the trees in Fox Forest - including herself. But whatever change it was that led Veronica to answer the phone that night, was the same thing that led Betty to call. 

“Okay, you caught me.” Betty’s voice came out low and wobbly and her eyes turned away from Veronica, “You’re the only person I know that I _wanted_ to be climbing trees with me at three in the morning.”

Veronica’s hand faltered with the next mask, letting it drop carelessly into the grass in the roots of the tree, “I’m sure Archie could keep better company.” She gulped. A familiar flush started to rise up in her face. She didn’t know what she was doing - or if she was even upset with Betty. Betty wasn’t the person who had made her promises of forever, in her story she was just a girl who fell for the wrong guy. And was that something worth punishing her over? Veronica wanted to be the type of person who could forgive her best friend and move on - but every time she tried she felt the gaping hole her and Archie had punched through her chest. 

Betty fell quiet after that, giving her mind a few minutes to settle. Veronica had every right to throw barbed statements and harsh words - she was prepared for them, expected them, even, and yet they still _hurt._ She continued to obediently catch the sturdy masks being tossed down to her, until the weight in her hands more similarly resembled the one in her chest. 

“So… you and Jug…” Betty kicked up a rock with the corner of her shoe, only breaking the silence when she feared her time alone with Veronica was running out. Somewhere amidst the chaos they’d adopted this new dynamic that neither of them were a fan of. It felt like they were keeping secrets from each other. Because they were both no longer sharing everything with their best friend. And, if Veronica was going to tell her anything, she wanted it to be this. She needed to know if she and Archie had pushed them so far, they fell into each other.

“Are none of your business or concern anymore.” She said thinly, yanking the Reggie mask out from a tangle of branches. It was a harsh sentiment, but she had known better than to go prodding around Betty and Archie’s budding relationship - so why would she ask about her and Jughead’s? Certainly not for fear of it growing - he was Donny Darko and she was Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Their romantic compatibility was next to nonexistent. Besides, she was with Reggie now. 

The pair returned to silence, with Veronica picking out masks and Betty catching them like they were two cogs in a well oiled machine. There was once a time when they might’ve made a game out of this, or talked about their plans for the next day. Instead, they both swallowed words and pushed thoughts back into the corners of their minds. Passing and catching, as if it were the only thing they knew. 

Finally, Veronica lowered herself back to the ground, dusting her hands off on her jeans. Their work was done - and maybe they were done, too. She took in a shaky breath as she stepped towards Betty, whose hands were doing that thing that Jughead always talked about - the _fiddling._ She’d never noticed it before, but now it was all she could pay attention to. 

“Betty,” She reached out to steady her hands and Betty’s eyes lifted up to meet hers, “I love you. And I want nothing more than to forgive you and move on. But-” Her voice broke and she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. 

“But I can’t… right now.” Veronica exhaled, both feeling and sounding deflated. “When I look at you I think about him. And I _can’t_ think about him. Because I’m in love with him - and loving him makes me feel like an idiot. Because I was in love with him while he was falling for you - and now he’s with you and I’m still here loving him. Which makes me an idiot. Looking at you _reminds_ me that I’m...an _idiot._ And I can’t _do_ that right now. So I’m sorry, Bety Cooper, but the next time you need someone, please - _please -_ do not call me.” Her eyes swept up to the leaves of the trees she’d just climbed down from, her mind reeling back to that day in the branches with Archie. When she’d pressed her lips against his smile and it didn’t matter that they were eight feet off of the ground because, for all she knew, they could have been flying. She let out a final uneven breath and, before Betty could respond - before she could tell her that she wasn’t an idiot or any of the other nice things a best friend is supposed to say as a response - Veronica walked away. She walked away from Betty and the masks and the memories of her and Archie, so stupidly in love.

Betty’s eyes followed Veronica’s movements as she hurried away to her car. Leaving her alone in the woods, once again _._ She looked down at the masks in her hands and considered the mess they had made. The boy with red hair and the girl with the ponytail. She undid her ponytail and shook out her hair - not wanting to bear any more resemblance to someone who could cause so much pain to the people she loved. Veronica’s words felt heavy between her ears, and she wondered if Jughead felt the same. Did the thought of her make him feel _idiotic?_ Or was that just another thing she and Veronica had in common? Because, she couldn’t think about Jughead - she didn’t want to. The thought of him made her physically hurt. Which might’ve been worth it if she hadn’t tossed away the love of her life over nothing - like _he_ was nothing. Like an idiot. 

Back in town, Elm Street was quiet. Betty sat in the driveway of her house for a few minutes before walking inside. Jughead’s light was on in his room and she tried to remember the last time she saw it off. Was it the day of? After? And at what point had the timeline of her life been separated into Before and After? She considered bringing all of the masks up to his room - laying them out on his familiar floor. They could stay up together looking at them - they could stay up together and undo what she had done and her timeline could have a new bookmark: Before they fixed things, and After. It was a scenario she wanted to hold onto - but she knew that was all it could be. A scenario. A fantasy. The reality would be far different. 

Although the sound of her old car had made it apparent that Betty was coming home well after hours, habit had her sneaking in through the back door. Sliding it open and stepping into the empty kitchen as she had a few nights before. His words, _family talk,_ rang through her ears and she had to shake her head to try to empty out the sound of it. She thought about texting Archie, but she didn’t know what she would say. _She still loves you_ . _I still love him_ . _We’ve been over, long before we ever began._ Nothing that would change their situation - only words that would cause them deeper pain. So she went up to her room. Jughead was playing music - it was soft but she could still hear it in the hallway. Betty fought the urge to press her ear up against the door - was he writing? Was he alone? There was so much she wanted to know but, just like Veronica had said, it was neither her business or her concern. Not anymore.

On the floor of her own room, Betty spread out all of the masks from the woods. A chill shot down her spine as the last faces she saw Before looked back at her. She turned each one over in her hands, inspecting them carefully, pausing at the Jughead mask. Why wouldn’t he yell at her? Scream at her? _Look at her?_ Do anything to show he still cared - to let her know that there was something left for her to fight for. 

On the Reggie mask there was a small streak, she tried to rub it off at first because it looked more similar to a line of dirt than anything. But when it didn’t budge she took a closer look at the text - there, written inside of the Reggie mask were the words _“Finish the storyline”._

“Oh my god.” Betty almost felt like she had been hit in the chest. She stumbled up to her phone, scrolling as quickly as she could to find Reggie’s contact. One...two...three rings with no answer. Panicked, she dialed the only other number she could think of, pulling back her curtain to watch him. One… two… the lamp turned on. His voice followed, hoarse and tired.

“Betty? What’s wrong?” She heard him shuffle over to the window where he drew back the curtain to meet her gaze.

“I don’t have time to explain - can you help me find Reggie?” 

“Yeah… of course.” He spoke slowly as his mind woke up. Groggily, Archie pulled on the same pair of jeans he had discarded earlier in the day and stumbled down the steps. Outside, Betty was already standing eagerly at his jalopy. A part of her wanted to just start running - as though the adrenaline in her system could take her further faster than a half awake Archie ever could. But she stood patiently by as he struggled to unlock the vehicle.

It was nearly sunrise by the time they pulled up Reggie’s house, and Betty’s mind had already wandered back to Jughead in his room. Doing who knows what with who. The only thing that brought her attention back to Reggie was the absence of his car in the driveway.

“He’s not home.” Archie stated the obvious, turning to Betty as she started to gnaw on her bottom lip, annoyed. They weren’t autonomous like she and Jughead were.

“Can you just start driving? He has to be somewhere.”

Archie nodded and started driving, obedient as ever. He slowly crawled through the streets, both of them making sure to check every alleyway and corner for Reggie, his car… or his body. Archie took multiple turns to avoid going down Washington Avenue, and Betty pretended to not notice. When Reggie’s car didn’t turn up on any other street, he finally threw on his blinker. Sure enough, right there under their noses, was Reggie’s car. Parked outside of the Pembrooke. Archie’s grip tightened over the steering wheel. 

“I think Reggie is perfectly safe, Betty.” His jaw locked and his expression turned cold. He never stopped the car and the vehicle continued to creep forward past the apartment building he knew as well as his own home. 

“Arch, just because he’s here doesn’t mean-” She started, reaching out to him to try to comfort him. He didn’t move. He didn't pull away or react to her touch. It was almost like he wasn’t there at all. “Can we just check Bella’s brakes to be sure?” 

Archie pressed his lips into a line, “No. Betty. Let’s go home.” He dropped his foot against the gas and the car peeled out of the street, tires screeching against the asphalt, jostling the two of them as they raced back to Elm Street. Neither of them spoke during the ride back. Betty tapped her thumbs together, fighting back the urge to reach out to him again. She used to be able to calm him - back when they were friends. Back in the Before.


	7. Chapter 7

Jughead felt, at this point in his life, that he had spent far too much time in woods and forests by now. Growing up he frequented the maple trees on the Blossom property and the sycamores down by Sweetwater River whenever his dad drank too much or his parents got into another fight. He taught Jellybean how to listen for the hum of the forest and watched as she danced in the wildflowers. Back in those days the woods were a magical place. Now, they were just another place for dead bodies, bunkers, and best friends kissing girlfriends thinking they wouldn’t get caught. 

Standing in the woods around Stonewall, Jughead decided that once you’d seen one wooded area you’d seen them all, because these almost eerily resembled the ones in Riverdale. The tree breeds were different, sure, but they were both covered in dirt all the same. He walked past the same rock a third time and let out an exasperated sigh. He and Veronica were supposed to meet outside of the boarding school an hour ago to investigate the area and she hadn’t answered a single one of his calls. It was getting to the point where he was almost hoping that hers would be the next corpse he stumbled across. But, sure enough, just as he was about to dive deeper into the woods on his own, Veronica’s car rolled up and she stepped out sputtering a stream of apologies. 

“Spare me the details, Lodge.” He held up his hand to stop her. The truth was that he couldn’t care less about her tardiness or what caused it. The real reason he was getting so worked up about it was because he was waiting for her, and not Betty.

“Are you mad at me?” She pulled back from him, her eyes narrowed as she watched his face contort itself into a partial scowl.

“No- I,” His entire stance softened, “No.” There was no use trying to pick a fight with Veronica for something she had no control over. She showed up. She wanted to help. That had to be good enough for him, because the likelihood of him ever waiting for Betty again, was grim. 

Veronica uncrossed her arms, sensing the de-escalation in tension, “Okay. Well, then you should know that Reggie said Betty saw a note in his mask that said to finish the story. I read your story and - does that mean they want us to kill him? Or that they’re going to?” 

Jughead turned away from her. Her dedication to the case was admirable, and her eagerness to put a minut spat behind them in favor of moving forward with the investigation was a quality he attributed to her business-centered mind. But in spite of that he couldn’t ignore how she’d tossed out Betty’s name so carelessly. Like they talked about her all the time. He shifted his focus to the zipper of his jacket, running it up and down the length of the leather until Betty’s name sounded less and less like a real word in his head. 

“Maybe.” His lips pressed together. He knew he’d have to get used to hearing her name eventually. Afterall, Riverdale was a small town and it didn’t help that they lived together. But he had no intention of getting used to it today.

The pair walked deeper into the woods, where the trees got thicker and their roots got more and more twisted. They didn’t communicate much with words, their preferred form of communication was the unspoken dialogue they had grown accustomed to over the years. Simply existing in the presence of each other. To keep his mind off of Betty, Jughead began to narrate Veronica’s movements in his head. Causing him to note how she didn’t take a step until one foot was firmly placed on the ground, while he stomped through the woods with no regard to where he might fall. Veronica placed a delicate hand on the bark of almost every other tree to steady herself, while he haphazardly reached out to them only to catch himself in a fall. It got to the point where the activity was counterproductive as he stopped comparing himself to Veronica and started comparing her to Betty. Betty didn’t walk with caution but she did walk with intention. The woods knew when she was coming and they cleared a path for her. Her ponytail remained composed even through the thick woods - never once catching on branches. The two were different in many respects - but their differences always aligned. Like their personalities ran parallel to each other, and never collided. It was no wonder Archie was able to fall in love with both of them. 

Four miles out from the school they came across the empty stables. Fifty years ago Stonewall had a rather successful horse racing course that brought in donations for the school in the form of rigged bets. When the racing was shut down, so were the stables, and now they were overrun with vines and ivy, corrupting the structure and making the entire stone building beside it look oddly out of place with it’s kept exterior. They’d almost walked past it when Veronica stopped.

“I’ve seen this wall before.” Her brows drew together as she stepped back from the building. It looked like it was only large enough to contain a single room, a cube of stone completely barred from the outside.

“It’s a stone wall, Veronica.” Jughead attempted to reason with her, but she was already walking back up towards the wall.

“No, I’ve seen  _ this  _ wall before. I’m sure of it.” Her hand raised and ran across a small part of the wall. This wall was in New York - this wall was in her childhood. This wall. “Oh my god.” She lifted her hand back.

“What? What is it?” He moved next to her side, watching as her mouth slowly curved up into a smile. 

“When I was little my dad was looking for some… real estate. To host his underground meetings and illegal gatherings. It had to be secure and, at the time, he was at the top. Everyone sent in these videos of their own layers and the places they had for sale just for the  _ chance  _ to get in his good graces. I was so insistent on being let in on his work life he let me watch them with him. One of them came in on a VHS tape and he rejected it because he said it was too close to where he grew up - but I kept the tape to play in the background whenever I was playing detective or rescue.” 

“Okay… so?”

“So!” Her eyes grazed over the wall one last time before she carefully pressed two stones inward. When the third stone clicked into place she moved the only vine on the structure out of the way to expose what looked to be a retina scanner that popped out, “I think we’re going to need to find a way to get Mr. Honey’s eye.”

“Veronica Lodge,” Jughead grinned, his eyes practically sparkling when he turned to her, “You are incredible.” Reflex took over before anything and Jughead pulled Veronica in, twirling her around before holding her close against himself. They could feel each other's hearts clattering around in their chests as their eyes dropped to each other's lips. As though looking at only that might convince them they were with the person they truly wanted to be with.

“W-we should get to the morgue.” Veronica staggered backward, her hands dropping from his shoulders where she didn’t remember placing them. 

“Right.” He responded, his face turned away from her. They resumed their comfortable silence on the walk back to their cars and Jughead made the conscious choice to  _ not  _ notice Veronica the entire way back. Because noticing Veronica led to him thinking about Betty and that - clearly - proved to be very dangerous. 

Veronica followed Jughead’s car all the way back to the morgue in Riverdale. Before they went inside Jughead confirmed with her that she had enough cash on hand - to which she reminded him that she was, in fact, a Lodge. He nodded and they entered the establishment. The familiar scent of death greeted them as soon as they stepped into the building. They continued in silence as they descended the steps to where Dr. Curdle Jr. was waiting for them. 

“Mr. Jones - will Ms. Cooper be joining you today?” He inquired innocently. He worked with corpses and interacted with no one - there was no way he could have known their petty high school drama. Still, Jughead felt slightly offended by the question. Before he could embarrass himself with a response, Veronica stepped forward.

“Dr. Curdle Jr.! It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Cooper has told me nothing but praise. I believe this is double her usual payment?” She spoke quickly, handing over a clean pile of cash that she kept on her in case of emergencies. She figured this classified as one - especially since it felt like it. Dr. Curdle Jr. fingered through the bills carefully, then uncovered the corpse that was brought in from the woods. 

“Will that amount buy us some time alone with the body?” She turned her attention to him and watched as his eyes flit between the body and the cash.

“Of course.” He finally hissed, stepping out of the room and leaving Veronica and Jughead alone with the corpse.

They both stepped forward, ready to excavate an eye when Jughead stopped short. The body had been cleaned, making the person beneath the crusted blood more recognizable. More recognizably  _ not Mr. Honey.  _

“What the hell-?” 

X

The only thing that made sense that day was how the two of them ended up in a booth at Pop’s. They both had a mug of coffee in front of them as they contemplated who it was that they saw in the morgue. Dr. Curdle Jr. had confirmed multiple times that that was the body brought in to him by the police from the woods. What he couldn’t tell them was who identified the corpse and why there was no further testing to confirm the identity before declaring Mr. Honey dead.

“It doesn’t make sense. In the woods-” Veronica practically spoke into her coffee.

“He was covered in blood. Unidentifiable. Someone had to have told them it was Honey.” He spun the mug around in his hand, looking out over Veronica’s shoulder.

Veronica lifted her head up, biting the edge of her lip, “I think we need to talk to your dad.” He nodded in agreement but neither of them made a move to stand from their booth.

“Do you want to talk about-” She started, referring to their moment in the woods. 

“Let’s go talk to my dad.” He quickly stood from his spot, almost knocking over both of their drinks in the process. Veronica re-centered her necklace - a nervous tick of hers that helped to calm her down - and then followed his lead out the door. 

Within a few minutes, they were parked outside of the Cooper’s house. Jughead drove her over in spite of the fact that they’d driven to Pop’s separately. They approached the front door together and she paused for him to hold it open. Her head was down when she entered the house and when she looked up two sets of familiar eyes looked back at her with widened expressions of both shock and confusion.

“Veronica?”

“Betty.”

“Archie?”

“Jughead.”

They exchanged names in such a modulated manner, someone who didn’t know the four of them might assume that they didn’t know each other at all. Veronica and Jughead stood still in the doorway, unblinking, while Betty sat wide-eyed and Archie’s mouth twitched as though he was fighting back something he wanted to say.

“Your dad.” Veronica said to Jughead to break the silence.

“Right.” Jughead raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue before leading Veronica up the stairs to the study where his father was waiting for them. At the table, Betty watched as Archie’s eyes followed Veronica up the stairs and lingered even after she was no longer in sight.

“Are you okay, Arch?” She asked, twisting a ring around on her finger.

Archie let out a long breath and Betty wondered if he had been holding it since Veronica walked into the house, “Before Ronnie, I thought the contents of my life would fit within the borders of this town. After I was with her I thought I could go anywhere and do anything and it wouldn’t matter as long as she was with me.” 

“And now?”

_ Now she’s kissing Sweet Pea in front of me. Now she’s spending the night with Reggie. Now she’s running up the stairs with Jughead.  _ Are all things he thought. But he said, “Now I’m going to the U.S. Naval Academy.”  _ 221 miles away from her.  _

Upstairs, F.P. shouted down at Veronica and Jughead, “What do you mean it wasn’t Honey?” 

“We just need to know if you have any way to know who I.D’ed the body, Mr. Jones.” Veronica said each word intentionally in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. A skill, Jughead figured, she’d learned from her father. 

“You kids don’t need shit.” F.P. spat, “You have no business in this case, I thought I told you to stay away from this boy.”

“We went to the morgue to… look more closely at the body. And when we got there we saw that without the blood it wasn’t him. It wasn’t even close.” Veronica tried again, more successfully this time. F.P. slumped against his desk, running his hands through his hair. After a few moments, he sighed,

“Some Stonewall kid. A deputy asked me for help and said he was giving him a tour of the school when Honey flipped out and ran.”

“And you believed him?” Jughead leaned forward.

“I believed the video.” F.P. glowered at his son. Veronica almost felt the need to step between them before they glared each other to death.

“Can we see the video Mr. Jones?”

“Why the hell not.” He rolled his head, “It’s over there.” She turned to where he was indicating, to a VHS tape on top of the shelf.

Jughead grabbed the tape and Veronica’s hand, pulling her across the hall to his bedroom. She sat on his bed as he went to load in the tape. In order to play it, he had to remove the last tape he had watched.  _ The  _ tape. He held the ejected tape in his hands for a minute, just looking at it. When he picked it up off the front steps he thought he was going to see a murder or six more hours of outside of his house. How could he play the security tape with any expectations when it was clear that everything he thought to be real, never was? Even when that thing was love?

“Jug?” Veronica tried, placing her hand on his arm.

“Right.” He dropped the tape to the floor and started to play the security footage. It started to roll and soon Jonathan and Mr. Honey were pictured walking through the screen. They were going down the corridor when Honey stopped abruptly. His left leg started banging against the floor before his body was consumed by spasms and he ran out of the frame. Jonathan appeared confused before running after him. The video cut out after that. 

“They looked like they were having a conversation - not a tour.” Veronica placed a hand on Jughead’s leg as she leaned in to point out the small details in the pair’s conversation, “See? On a tour, he’d be pointing out the labs and classrooms. But they’re just talking like they’re friends. And Honey doesn’t talk to anyone like that.” 

Jughead didn’t respond and Veronica realized how they were both hyper-aware of her hand on his leg. A motion that - before this evening - neither of them would have thought twice about. She quickly drew her hand back to her own lap and cleared her throat.

“Anyways… I should head home.” She stood, turning back to face him at the door, “Let me know if you need anything, Jughead.” She said. He remained stiff and still, facing the screen. Maybe he was trying to decode the puzzle of Honey’s breakdown. Or maybe he was reliving the night he saw the tape. Either way, she left him there, closing the door softly behind her. 

Veronica was relieved to see the dining room table was empty when she returned downstairs. She didn’t want to walk on eggshells around anyone else tonight. She slid on her shoes and stepped outside, nearly toppling into him. 

Archie turned, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. His face was sullen, and when their eyes met his heart quickened. 

“Ronnie - can we talk?” She stood still, holding her breath in place. She still felt pulled to him. Like if she dared to move, to blink, to  _ breathe  _ she might melt right into his hands again. Like a preschooler running into their first crush, her heartbeat rose into her ears, deafening her over a boy she’d never have. Not again, at least. Beating to the tune of  _ Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.  _

“No, Archie.” She breathed, closing her eyes to keep from looking into his. “I don’t think we can.” She gave a polite smile and moved past him. Reggie’s phone number was dialed into her phone before she hit the sidewalk. 

Halfway down the block, Reggie met Veronica to pick her up and take her back to the Pembrooke.

“Park the car.” She said when he pulled over to let her in. He did as told and she took off her shirt before she’d even entered the vehicle. 

“Ronnie-” Reggie breathed, holding back a little. He figured she had run into Archie at Jughead’s house and he wanted to see if she wanted to talk about it before they did anything else.

“Shut up.” Veronica didn’t waste the time to tease him with little bites or lips brushing against each other. She pressed fully into him in a kiss that was passionate and demanding. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t want to. Because maybe - if she kissed him enough she’d forget almost kissing Jughead, and really kissing Sweet Pea, and most importantly, if she kissed him enough she might just forget ever kissing Archie Andrews.

“Veronica.” He whispered her name this time, slowly, prolonging each letter like he could taste them. She placed her hands on either side of his face, drawing him back in. That’s not how she wanted to hear her name - she didn’t want to hear it coming out of his mouth. She closed her eyes, unclasping her skirt from memory and moving the two of them into the backseat - each of her motions were done to the same syllabic rhythm -  _ Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. _


	8. Chapter 8

Veronica sat with her legs thrown across Reggie’s lap as she reclined into the red accent couch of the student lounge, thumbing through a copy of Wilkie Collins'  _ The Woman in White  _ that Jughead had lent her. Something about hoping the book might  _ spark her investigative spirit.  _ Instead, all it was doing was boring her - and that was more or less due to the fact that she was putting very little effort into actually reading it. Her hand lazily flipped over another page that she had all but skimmed through while her mind raced in a million different directions. At the forefront of her thoughts was an ever-present guilt that she felt whenever she was with Reggie. She liked to be with him - their relationship made sense. Even more so than hers and Archie’s ever did. They worked together, they played together - so why couldn’t she let herself fall for him? It had been over a month since Archie had tried to talk to her outside of the Cooper house, she had put him behind her and had no reason to feel guilty - hadn’t she? 

“I know you’re not thinking that hard about that book of yours.” He lowered her book gently and looked at her softy, trying to read her. Veronica took the saying  _ loved by many known by few  _ to a new extreme, and she closed herself off even more after what Reggie referred to as the “Archie Chronicles”. 

“It’s a murder mystery Reg, I’m supposed to be thinking about it.” She propped herself up on her elbows and leaned into him. She knew where he wanted to lead the conversation - he wanted to see if Archie was still on her mind. And he was - of course he was. But it didn’t have to mean anything,  _ he  _ didn’t  _ get  _ to mean anything. Not to her. Not anymore. But Reggie didn’t look ready to drop the discussion and Veronica wasn’t ready to have it. So she did the only thing she knew would stop him - she kissed him. The kiss was brief and mechanical, more closely resembling the act of checking a box than a sign of actual affection. But it was effective in the fact that it stopped Reggie from being apprehensive about her past with Archie, and it stopped her from having to admit that there was nothing  _ past  _ about her feelings for him. 

Across the room by the pool table, Archie leaned against the doorframe, half-heartedly listening to Betty sympathize with a classmate over the headache-inducing smell of fresh paint from remodeling the front office. He didn’t hear most of the conversation as his attention was drawn over to where Veronica and Reggie were positioned on the couch. She had moved into an upright position and worked her hand into his, once again shoving their relationship down his throat. His entire life Reggie had been a good friend to him. Through thick and thin, they were Bulldog brothers. This part of their story felt particularly  _ thin.  _ Because, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, when Archie looked over at Reggie an emotion bubbled up inside of him that could only be described as hate. He  _ hated  _ Reggie. Because there he was, sitting with Veronica. Not just in that moment - but constantly. Everywhere he turned he was sitting with Veronica, eating lunch with Veronica, laughing with Sweet Pea as they were probably swapping notes  _ about  _ Veronica. There was no escape from their unholy reign of public displays of affection and calls of  _ Reggiekins -  _ a pet name, by the way, that Archie felt was absolutely ridiculous. Why was it that every time he lost Veronica, she went running to Reggie? He knew he couldn’t expect her to wait around for him or forgive him, he knew she would eventually move on. But he hadn’t known that it would hurt this much, or happen so soon.

When Archie turned back to Betty he saw that the girl she had been talking to left, and he couldn’t pinpoint when or how long he had been watching Veronica, but it didn’t seem to bother her much since Betty’s focus was set out into the hallway where Jughead had his arm draped over the shoulders of a blue-haired Serpent girl. In their new pairs, they were certainly less disruptive. The “preppy” kids were together, as were the con-artists, and the gang members. They were all mixing with their own kind. No more city-girl and small-town-guy or girl-next-door with the wallflower. It was the same thing their parents had done however many years ago. But was that what they wanted? To repeat the past and make the same mistakes? It would certainly be easier - and it wasn’t like life had turned out too bad for their parents. If you ignore the divorces, and the deaths, and the serial killer husbands. 

“Arch, I think I’m going to start heading to class.” Betty gave his shoulder a small squeeze before stepping out into the hallway. They both knew her next period was free for the Blue and Gold, but he didn’t question it. The bell would be ringing soon and he had his own class to go to, so Archie walked out in the opposite direction, with Reggie tailing not far behind him.

Betty walked towards the cluster of Serpents surrounding Jughead. They were all laughing, and even though she knew it wasn’t at her, the sound made her skin crawl. As she got closer she was able to see how the blue-haired Serpent leaned into Jughead while she was laughing. Acting as though it was  _ her  _ head that fit perfectly on his shoulder when it wasn’t. Betty’s hands curled in on themselves and her nails dug into the scarred flesh on her palms. The sight of them was almost too much. She thought about turning back and heading to the office, she had a spread on the upcoming prom that was due by the end of the week anyways. But before she could turn around the group of gang members turned their attention onto her with such synchrony they resembled the actual serpents that they wore on their backs. Jughead whispered something to the girl that Betty couldn’t make out, but when he pulled away she and the rest of the Serpents walked away and filed into the student lounge where Veronica was waiting for them.  _ Right,  _ Betty thought,  _ They’re meeting for Swords and Serpents.  _

Before she could dismiss the conversation Jughead leaned himself against the lockers, looking her up and down like he was sizing up prey.

“Hey  _ sis,  _ can I help you with something?” His upper lip practically curled up into a sneer and Betty’s fists tightened. She was tired of hearing him dismiss her as a relative - exes, friends,  _ enemies  _ even she could handle. But not family.

“Jug, please don’t do that.” Her arm twitched behind her back, she wanted to reach out to him, but she couldn’t.

“Betty, you like facts don’t you? Well here’s a couple that might help you figure this thing out.” He asked, leaning down and lowering his voice, “Our parents are together. We share a brother. I’ve accepted it, maybe you should too.”

Betty narrowed her attention to his eyes. He could throw every insecurity she had at her in an attempt to get underneath her skin, but she knew him. And she could see that the words he spoke hurt him just as much as they did her. He hadn’t accepted it, he didn’t even believe it. He recited the words like a child trying to convince themselves of a religion they had no faith in. He recited the words because he felt it was the only reality there was left to accept. But it wasn’t.

“The girl seems nice.” Was the best thing she could think of to try to steer them towards more civil conversation. She was tired of them hurting each other, she missed her friend. Jughead felt differently. He didn’t feel  _ hurt  _ by Betty and her actions or her words, he felt empty. The moment he saw Betty and Archie flickering on his screen he felt like she’d bludgered him and his emotions into nothing and every time she walked up to try to talk to him she was rubbing salt in the wound. Kicking up the dust of his destruction. Because as much as he denied it - primarily to himself - he was still a gelatinous mess in her mindful hands. 

“Betty, what do you want?” He strained his voice for the words. He felt like he shouldn’t have sent his friends away, he should’ve kept up the wall. He wasn’t ready for this - for her. Not then and not now, and maybe that’s why she’d left him for the ever present and ever sturdy arms of the boy next door.

Betty pressed her lips together, swallowing down her frustration. “Look, I just wanted to tell you that I think Mr. Honey might be being held out by Sweetwater River. I tapped into this radio channel in the area and it connects but it sounds like static - kind of like how the water would sound in the background of our walkie-talkie days.” 

His eyes flit over to the door that led into the student lounge as the bell rung over their heads, indicating that it was time for them to part. “Thanks, Veronica and I will look into it.”

“God, Jughead!” She started, lowering her voice when she noticed a few Serpents turn their heads, “You and I both know we do our best work together. We need to set aside our differences and do this… for the town.”

His eyes narrowed and he pushed himself off of the lockers, walking toward the lounge as he spoke, “You know, I don’t think our differences are the problem. In fact - I think we might be too similar. For example, we both love Archie Andrews.” He stood in the entryway and saw how Veronica had moved to the front of the room and was watching their interaction with a warning face - an expression that told him  _ don’t go too far hurting Betty,  _ but he had already started and the words kept falling out, “But don’t worry, Veronica does that too. And she and I are doing just fine on our own. So thanks, Betty, really thank you. But no thanks.” He finally pushed past Betty, nearly knocking his shoulder into hers like a playground bully. Heat rose up in his face as he walked into the room, he could still feel her watching him.

“How can I help?” Veronica asked softly, laying a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But he couldn’t feel it, all he could feel were Betty’s eyes boring into him and he wanted it to stop. In a single blind moment he closed the gap between himself and Veronica. Their lips pressed together and his hand clasped gently onto the back of her head, pressing them closer together. They kissed each other and their minds raced to Betty and Archie and that  _ damn tape  _ and how much had changed because of it until they both felt Betty walk away. As soon as she left, Veronica dropped her arms from where they’d positioned themselves around his neck and Jughead wilted away from her.

“That can’t happen again. Because,” Veronica spoke before she had fully caught her breath. Jughead nodded,

“Reggie.” He tried to complete her sentence at the time she had said  _ “Archie”.  _ He paused for a moment,

“Right… sorry. I guess I needed to clear my head.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Okay, good.” She wrung out her hands and ran her string of pearls back and forth as she tried to dispel her anxious energy, “I think I’m going to step into the hall for a minute. Can you start without me?”

Jughead buried his face into his hands, letting out a heady sigh, “Yeah - yes. Please, go.” His gaze fixated on the clock that hung above her shoulder, opting to become engrossed in watching the second hand chase it’s way around the numbers rather than to face what they had done. Not because the kiss made them think about each other - but because the kiss made them think about other people. Because even though they’d broken up nearly two months ago, it felt like they’d just committed a cardinal sin. And he felt sick.

Veronica’s arms wrapped around herself as she stepped out into the hallway with two resounding  _ clicks.  _ She felt astonishingly small in the empty corridor, like the open space could swallow her whole and she could disappear into the walls like so many other unsolved Riverdale mysteries. Her hand dragged across the lockers as she walked further away from the room where she felt she betrayed her best friend. Hiram had raised her to believe in an eye for an eye - or, more accurately, a life for an eye. But kissing Jughead didn’t feel like settling the score. Circumstance didn’t matter, she knew Betty was watching and she played into it anyways. In her eyes, making her no better than Betty.

Veronica stopped short outside of the Blue and Gold, Betty had likely retreated back into the safety of her writing space. She held a breath in her mouth, not wanting to disrupt the air around them. Finally, she stepped in. Betty’s eyes lifted towards her as soon as she stepped in. 

“Are you okay?” She sounded and moved like she was approaching a baby deer. Like at any moment Betty might pick up and run away.

“No.” Betty admitted, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back into her chair, “Until right now you haven’t been able to look at me. Jughead keeps trying to play step-siblings and I- I just need to know when we’re finally going to be even. When we’re going to stop  _ punishing each other.”  _ Her voice turned watery at the end of her sentence and she had to slow down her words to keep her tone even. Veronica stepped forward, holding out her hand,

“C’mon, get up.” Betty furrowed her brows as she followed the instruction, “Let’s go to that place by the river you want to check out.” 

X

The swollen waters rushed over into the rapids, filling the soundless space left open between Veronica and Betty as they navigated the river's edge in silence. Neither of them knew what they were looking for - maybe another hidden bunker, a few leaves out of place, or, if they were lucky, Mr. Honey just wandering around in the woods. Veronica kicked a stone along, wobbling with each step as her heels sunk into damp soil. In spite of her sleuthing with Jughead, she felt ill-equipped to go on a man-hunt, like she should be noticing snapped twigs and trails left askew by disruption. Instead, she just saw sticks, moss, and trees. While Betty was more adept to notice the smaller details, she was struggling to notice anything at all - even the minut and mundane attributes of the surrounding areas. Maybe it was the investigative or the journalistic side of her - but instead of looking for clues she was compiling questions in her mind. The last time her and Veronica were alone together she couldn’t even look at her, now she was willingly getting her red-bottoms dirty - for what? A break from classes? Because, surely community-college bound Reggie could’ve played hooky with her if that were the case. And she probably wasn’t doing this on behalf of Jughead. Especially not after their stunt in the lounge - unless that was what it was about. What if Betty was her go-to person for cheating? Did she have questions about cheating on Reggie?

Betty’s pace slowed to a stop and Veronica turned to face her. Her smile slipped when she saw the look on her friends face.

“V… what changed?” She asked, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.

Veronica paused, pressing her lips together. She wasn’t good at these kinds of conversations. In her family they were either on good terms or they weren’t - and that could change at a moment's notice and you weren’t meant to question it. It was a turbulent dynamic, but it kept any of the Lodge’s from having to explain either their sudden harsh or lenient behavior

“Well, if you’re asking what changed between you and me. I-” She sighed, flattening out her skirt, “It’s hard to get over Archie cheating on me. Like - sleeping with the wrong people hard. But he was my boyfriend. You? Betty, you’re my best friend and you kissed the boy I liked. When the roles were reversed you forgave me.” 

Betty shook her head, “It was different then.” she said as her eyes fell to the ground. Veronica’s seven minutes in heaven sophomore year was not a comparable match to her and Archie's kiss of Judas - and to equate them felt like a minimization of Veronica’s pain.

Veronica shrugged, kneeling to the ground to move around a few stones, pretending to be looking for something when the only thing she was in search of was a distraction. “Not really. You two weren’t together but you had history. I’m sure it hurts all the same.” 

When Veronica stood up she passed a smooth river stone back and forth between her hands - and she wondered if that is what had happened to her over the years. If slowly the waters of Riverdale had eroded her into nothing but a featureless rock. The rushing sounds of the water slowed to a lull, as though acknowledging that it’s commotion was no longer needed to replace their conversation. Any silence they stood in now was not solitary. Betty’s mouth opened as though she was about to speak again when a twig snapped to the left of them. Both girls jumped in response, the rock Veronica had held clattered back to the ground. 

“That was probably just an animal, right?” Veronica asked, looking out to staggered trees. Nothing looked different - not that she could tell. Someone could’ve replanted everything around them and she would've been able to tell the difference. “Right?” She pressed again, looking for reassurance more than anything. When she looked over she saw Betty, staring blankly up into one of the cedars a few feet away. 

“I think we need to go.” She whispered. Veronica followed her line of vision where, up in the branches, a white rabbit masked glowered over them. Beneath the mask, a man stepped forward in a matching face covering. Followed by a woman.

Operating on instinct Veronica kicked off her shoes and Betty quickly grabbed ahold of her hand and dragged her onward toward where they had parked the car. Bristles, rocks, and every other jagged threat on the uneven ground of the woods tore into her feet but she never paused or slowed her pace. 

Walking absentmindedly along the river the pair hadn’t even noticed how much ground they had covered until they were attempting to back track it. Betty curved their path into the surrounding woods to minimize their tracks if they were being followed. Finally, when they staggered into the car and the doors were locked, Veronica turned to Betty who was fumbling to place her keys in the ignition.

“What the hell was that?” She shrilled, continuing to watch the woods around them. The keys finally turned in the ignition and Betty slammed her foot on the gas. 

The drive to Pop’s was short, but it had felt eternal. Both girls couldn’t shake the feeling that behind every tree, street light, and post was another person in a rabbit mask. Inside of the Chock’ Lit Shoppe they slammed themselves into their regular booth, taking their first breath of relief when Pop brought around their usual milkshake orders.

“How are we going to find that spot again? We have to go back after they’ve left.” Betty spoke in a hushed tone as she fiddled with the straw of her drink. Veronica’s eyes widened at the notion, pushing her own untouched drink to the side,

“Are you crazy? You want to go back there?”

“They had to have come out because we were getting close to something.” 

“Or they were following us the whole time.”

“ _ Veronica.” _

Veronica let out a small exasperated sound and lay her hands flat on the table. She knew Betty was right - of course, Betty was right. But was it so insane that she didn’t want to think about it  _ immediately  _ after they’d escaped? She reached down into her bag to grab her phone when she remembered,

“Give me your phone.” She declared, extending her hand to Betty.

“What?”

“Just  _ give it to me.”  _ She pressed. Betty handed over her phone with her face knit up in confusion - silently praying that Veronica didn’t notice how she’d never changed her background from her and Jughead. She didn’t seem to - or if she did she didn’t say anything. Veronica simply swiped through the apps as she explained, “Back at the river I must’ve dropped my phone when I dropped that rock I was holding  _ so… _ ”

“We can track its location.” Betty finished her thought, her eyes lighting up. Finding a decent lead on the Honey investigation was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to her since she started living in the After.

“Bingo.” Veronica slid Betty’s phone back over to her, where the location of her own phone was seen blinking on the screen. 

“You know, we make a pretty good team.” The corner of Betty’s mouth curved into a smile and she brought her drink up to her lips.

“We always have, B.” Veronica reached across the table and held her friend's hand. 

The bell above the door in the diner rang out, announcing the arrival of disruption. Two sloppy boys rushed over to their booth and slammed their own devices onto the table, practically knocking over their now-melted drinks. Before either girl could speak they were berraded with questions. 

_ “Where the hell have you been?” _

_ “You skipped school?” _

_ “We’ve been calling you for hours.” _

_ “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” _

Betty and Veronica looked over at each other before they started laughing. It started out small, but then it grew to be more raucous, only to the dismay of Archie and Jughead who still had at least four more minutes worth of lecturing rehearsed in their heads. Defeated, the boys slid into the booth - but muscle memory placed Archie next to Veronica and Jughead next to Betty. Everyone at the table grew tense when they’d realized - but no one said a word about it or moved.

“Ronnie what the hell was that text.” Archie grabbed her drink from where she’d pushed it aside and started to drink from it. 

“What text?” She looked at his phone where, sure enough, there was a message from her, and she didn’t want to look at it. Not because the cryptic words were not her own - but because just above them was the very last conversation they’d had. The message “ _ Don’t you feel our days are numbered.”  _ was buried beneath  _ “See you soon” _ ’s and  _ “I love you” _ ’s. Veronica turned over the phone. “I guess that means they picked up my phone.” 

“Looks like we’ll be going back to the river sooner than we thought.” 


	9. Chapter 9

At this point, Archie, Veronica, Jughead, and Betty should have just set up tents and started living in the woods. Or at least, that’s how it felt. The four of them had started walking alongside Sweetwater but eventually had to turn into the thick forest as they followed the location of Veronica’s phone.  _ It’s probably a trap,  _ Jughead thought as he recommended they split into twos to put some distance between them all. After all - if the rabbit masks Betty and Veronica detailed were any indication of Stonewall involvement, he knew that they couldn’t hit them all in the back of the head if they scattered. But when Betty ended up being the person he was walking with - for “protective” purposes in Veronica’s favor - he felt like  _ that  _ was the ultimate trap. Especially since he was worried that she might bring up his impromptu kiss with Veronica, a subject he’d very much like to forget. 

However, Betty kept primarily to herself. Something that was almost equally chilling, as previously she’d had nothing but words to say. But in place of banter or inflammatory conversation, she hummed to herself and watched as they got closer to the blue dot indicating the location of Veronica’s phone. Jughead repetitively stole glances over at her, either silently urging her to speak or pleading for her to stay silent. He wasn’t sure which option he preferred. Eventually, as they crossed over what felt like the same stream for the third time, Betty spoke.

“Do you think they were dumb enough to bring the phone back to a hideout?” The question was simple - conversational even. So much so that Jughead hardly paid attention to it as he continued to watch Betty navigate through the woods. Just as he remembered, each step she took was fueled with intention. Like the leaves and the trees were fully under her command. He almost wanted to capture the moment - break it apart into a million different scenes that he'd write up in his mind. It was how he always felt around Betty - and he imagined that was how all the great writers felt. That’s why so many wrote about the _lover_ and the _beloved,_ to immortalize moments like these when the moon would cast a silvery glow through the trees just to light up her smile. 

A smile - of course - that was not his to admire. “We can hope.” He said stalely, becoming increasingly irritated with himself. Because he was coming to realize that the more he badgered on making mistakes and pushing her away, the more difficult it became to paint Betty as some two-dimensional bad guy. But maybe, he figured, if he kept pushing her away he could keep pretending what she’d done was un-rectifiable. That her and Archie were somehow different than what he had done with Veronica.

Behind them, Archie and Veronica were clearly not making an attempt to keep quiet as Archie trampled through the roots beside Veronica’s small careful steps. Maybe it was because he charged into everything in life, or maybe he just wasn’t paying much attention to where his feet fell because he was watching her. Veronica walked gingerly just a few paces in front of him, running her hands along with the trees as she wove between branches, half following Betty and Jughead and half following the map she was holding on his phone. She hadn’t changed out of the clothes she’d adorned herself that morning - a classically Veronica dress stuffed beneath a leather jacket. Her hair fell just above the Serpent on her jacket, and he scoffed almost every time he looked at it. It was one thing to see her blending with the Serpents on their turf and school territory - but watching her continue to be decked in their paraphernalia on her own time was somewhat comical to him. 

“ _ What  _ Archie?” Veronica spun around and he almost crashed directly into her. His steps might have been thunderous but his  _ huffs  _ and  _ snortles  _ did not go unnoticed by her. Her breath hitched in her throat as she processed their proximity. He was still a decent twelve inches away, but it might as well have been millimeters because the air around them immediately turned electric and Veronica couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it felt in the moments before a lightning strike.

“Nothing, it's just -” He racked his hand through his token red hair, peering down at her and a line appearing between his brows. Talking to Veronica used to be easier and more instinctive than breathing - but now he kept feeling his words getting mixed up in his mouth. “I just can’t believe you joined the Serpents is all.”

Veronica took a small step closer to him, filling the gap between them until the tips of their shoes touched, “What’s so hard to believe about it.” She could practically hear his heart rate quicken and there was something criminally delicious to her about how, in spite of everything, they were still magnetic. She wanted to hate him, to keep turning away - but she’d already decided that reason lived beyond the beech barrier of these woods, and not within them. Shielded by the canopy of leaves and cloaked in moonlight, Veronica allowed herself to not only feel but  _ play in  _ their crude attraction.

“You’re - you. I don’t know. I just never thought you’d do it.” He stammered, acting boyish at first before his expression hardened and he cleared his throat. Archie took a small, staggered step back from her and with that small movement, the air around them fell flat. Because Jughead and Betty weren’t far ahead of them, and Archie wouldn’t be caught cheating - or almost cheating - it would seem. Not on anyone who didn’t have the last name Lodge, at least.

Veronica reapplied her poker face, silently mocking herself for even momentarily allowing herself to enjoy his presence. Nothing had changed. She was still that same idiot in love with a boy who loved someone else.

“And I never thought you’d hurt me.” She mumbled, resuming her pace trailing behind Betty and Jughead. They were there for one reason, and that was to investigate the location of her phone. When that was done, she’d never have to talk to Archie ever again.  _ Besides,  _ she reminded herself,  _ You’re with Reggie. Good, predictable Reggie _

Veronica’s steps eventually slowed to match the speed of her crawling thoughts. Normally, she could mute her thoughts. Her father had taught her at a young age to never allow  _ feelings  _ to interfere with business _.  _ But she couldn’t keep Archie out - she couldn’t evict him from the crawlspace he lived in either her mind or her heart. So her stream of consciousness continued to flow with bleeding thoughts of the boy with red hair. 

Archie continued to tromp artlessly through the woods, only now he walked beside rather than behind her. He found himself frequently looking over at her. The reality was that he was thinking of a lot of things, too. For a start, he was thinking about Reggie. More specifically, her and Reggie. A topic he’d really rather not think about that kept springing up when he least wanted it to. Not only because he knew he  _ shouldn’t  _ be thinking about them, but because the thought of them always led his mind to the same thing. They practically  _ forced  _ him to think about the last time he saw her. The last time he saw  _ her.  _ The morning the tapes went out. She’d woken up in his bed. She’d used his shampoo and slept in his shirt but she still smelt like  _ her.  _ It was indescribable - something warm and sweet and it drove him insane. He’d said goodbye to her before she left for work, they didn’t have plans to see each other until the next day. He didn’t know that when he said goodbye it would be for good. He didn’t know that that was the last time she’d let him in. That she would become a ghost of his past.

“So… you and Jughead.” He started, hoping she might talk about their friendship with him. Initiating the same conversation Betty had attempted what felt like lifetimes ago. Hoping that maybe he could walk back their relationship until they returned to that warm morning and not say goodbye this time. Until they could never say it again. 

“Only once.” She responded, to his surprise, at the same time that he'd finished with, “Are friends now?”

Now it was Archie’s turn to stop walking. His feet immediately stopped in their place and he leaned down towards her,  _ “What?”  _ They spoke in unison. He shook his head, uncertain as to why he was surprised. He’d clouded his thoughts with warm memories that had distracted him from reality - that he’d said goodbye that morning - and after she’d run to Sweet Pea and Reggie and  _ Jughead,  _ it would seem, instead of him.

“ _ You and Jughead?”  _ He practically spat out at her, feeling sick at the thought of Jughead touching her. He suddenly reminisced the moments when Reggie was the only person polluting his thoughts. All of the new time they’d spent together, he never imagined that he’d pushed her to  _ this.  _

“Is that a problem?” She crossed her arms over her chest. The last thing she needed was the guy who cheated on her  _ and  _ his own best friend with Betty Cooper giving her a lecture on  _ “Boy Code”  _ of all things. Not when he had no place to question her on her relationship with Jughead in the first place.

“Sorry, just didn’t think you were like that either _.” _

“Like  _ what?” _

“Like-” His voice quickly faded as he looked at her. Her jaw was clenched and she was watching him with these cold eyes that he knew she held reserved for the harshest moments - and now he knew why. The expression physically sent a shiver down his spine, and he wanted to take every negative word and thought back. But he couldn’t. They were out there and - for a few moments - they were real to him. As soon as he stopped his own words her face fell out of hostility, and into a cloudy sea of sadness only he could read. He could see the glaze forming over her eyes, but knew she’d never let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him. 

“ _ Say it,  _ Andrews. Call me a  _ slut. _ ” She jabbed a finger out at him, emphasizing the distance - both literal and figurative - that had grown between them, “That’s what you were thinking isn’t it? S _ orry I didn’t think you were a slut.  _ You and I both knew I wasn’t a virgin when we got together but  _ god forbid  _ I sleep with anyone except Archie Andrews afterward! Honestly what was I thinking? Why didn’t I just join a nunnery?” Veronica spread her arms, taking the stance of a pastor as she projected her words both to him and the entire forest.

“That’s not what I-”

“I was fine when I was with you - I was happy! I thought I’d found the boy that I’d spend the rest of my life with.” Her voice faltered. The woods felt infinite now - like she was small, like he had  _ made  _ her small. And she wouldn’t give him that, she refused to let him make her anything other than what she was. “I was done then  _ you  _ went and ruined that. _ You  _ left and ruined me. You left me in pieces and now I have to put myself back together again. If that means sleeping with Sweet Pea and dating Reggie and kissing Jughead then that’s what it takes. But you do not get to stand there and call me a slut for gluing back together what you broke.” 

“Ronnie-” He took a step toward her and she immediately pulled back, holding up her hands.

“No. Walking with you was a mistake. I’d rather fight off the Stonies by myself than be anywhere in these woods with you.” Veronica placed his phone in his hands, curling his fingers around the device before turning away from him. No longer being cautious with her steps, Veronica raced through the forest, blindly hoping to catch up with Betty and Jughead who had managed a sizeable lead during their dispute. All she knew was that she couldn’t be back there. Not with him. Maybe it was too soon, or maybe there was simply too much damage. Whatever it was, she felt like maybe,  _ finally,  _ this time she could discard him from her heart.

When Archie approached the blue dot, Veronica, Betty, and Jughead were already circled around something. He walked up beside them, opting to stand beside Jughead rather than Veronica. In front of them was a dead fox whose fur had been matted by its own blood. In its front paws, it held Veronica’s phone, which they’d all left untouched. Jughead knelt beside the carcass as he took photos of the scene - figuring that something here must be a clue. 

“What does it mean?” Archie asked, looking to his friends. Betty and Jughead both turned to Veronica, who clearly struggled to keep her voice even. 

“It’s a message.” She managed to say plainly, “I’m next.”

As the words exited her mouth the phone lit up on the ground and all of their attention turned to the call coming in on the screen. Betty gave Veronica’s hand a supportive squeeze as she went to answer the call. Even in panic, Veronica carried her motions out gracefully. She slid to accept the call, opting to bring the device to her ear rather than put it on speaker like they’d all expected of her. 

“Hello.” She kept her eyes out to the trees, watching in case the person on the other end of the call chose to reveal themselves.

“ _ Ms. Lodge, will you sink or swim?”  _ A mechanical voice recited to her.

“What?”

“ _ Sink or swim?”  _ It repeated before the line cut out. Veronica moved the phone down, uncertain about what to make of the conversation. When her focus returned to the people around her she saw the way all of their faces were knit and twisted in varying forms of concern. The message was clear from the start - she didn’t think they needed the content of the phone call to solidify it for them.

“It was static.” She lied and let out a shaky breath. She tried not to look at Archie, whose eyes were boring into her. He always knew when she was lying and she just couldn’t handle that right now. 

X

Though the arrangement might not have been the most logical, Betty opted to ride back with Archie rather than sit out the drive with Jughead. The evening had exposed wounds most of them were unaware needed healing - but now they were out and exposed to air and no one knew what to make of them. Least of all the girls. Betty and Veronica were usually the most sure of their decisions and where they led them, now everything was muddled and messy. Perhaps even messier than when the healing began. 

When Betty walked through the front door of her house she was unsurprised to find Jughead building a sandwich in the kitchen. She walked over to where he was cutting it in half and before they could even greet each other he was handing her half of the sandwich in such a fluid motion it was like muscle memory. And for the most part, it was. At first, she silently picked at the corners of the bread, watching as he consumed his portion in a matter of bites. Jughead’s appetite was the one thing they all felt would always stay the same. 

“The fox was a vixen.” She spoke more to break the silence than to actually share information. It was quite apparent to both of them in the woods what species the animal was, but she was taking the sandwich as an olive branch. And she wanted to see how far his forgiveness extended. 

Jughead pulled his phone out from his back pocket and swiped through the photos he had taken. His expression remained stony as he analyzed the images - but then again, he was always rather allusive when it came to the way his face twisted up or settled. Betty often had to work based off of the look in his eyes alone to unpack whether he was thinking or dreaming.

“It looks like it’s stuffed with something, but I can’t make out what.” He slid his phone across the counter and Betty examined the images.

“Oh my god are those rocks?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to place what reason someone would have to slit the throat of a vixen, scoop out its intestines, and fill it with river rocks, “I don’t know. You said she dropped her phone with a rock, right? Maybe that’s all it is, another Veronica clue.” His stomach let out a small growl and Betty slid her half of the sandwich back over across the counter. 

“ _ Thanks,”  _ Jughead mumbled sheepishly, but Betty was hardly paying attention to the interaction. She was busy analyzing the images - her fingers pinching and pulling at the screen to look for some particularly cynical message behind the animal. Surely the mastermind behind everything didn’t think they were so inept that they needed to practically tie a  _ for Veronica  _ note to the foot of the fox.

Her eyes lifted upwards when she clicked off the screen, meeting Jugheads. He had shifted his position slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, and she wondered how long he’d been watching her. 

Jughead cleared his throat, “Did you hear Veronica and your boyfriend fighting back there? It was like they wanted us to get caught.” He turned away from her, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. 

Betty’s shoulders fell slightly. She figured he was bringing up the subject to keep her at an arm’s length. Which was fair, but she couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally stop punishing her for her mistakes with Archie. “Yeah, but Archie is already so loud. I don’t think he’d know stealth if it punched him in the face.” 

They both laughed in a manner that more closely resembled a sigh and led them back into silence. Jughead eventually blew out his cheeks and pushed himself away from the counter.

“Right. Well. Goodnight, Betty.” He bobbed his head as he slunk out of the kitchen, stopping just as he reached the stairs to turn back to her, their eyes meeting again, “I’m not dating her - by the way. Anita, the girl with blue hair. She’s just a friend.”

Betty nodded, “Okay.” She smiled with her lips pinched together.

“Okay.” He returned, resuming his walk up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Betty deflated with such a heavy sigh it might’ve been plausible that she hadn’t exhaled since the walked up to Jughead in the hallway. She slumped down into the chair, resting her head against the granite countertop. She could hear her brain buzzing between her ears. So much had happened in the past twelve hours. Her. Veronica. Archie.  _ Jughead.  _ It was probably  _ too  _ much. Things felt like they were falling in and bumping out of place and she couldn’t figure out how she felt about any of it.

She tried to list everything off in her head and sort each event into a simplified category of good or bad, but it all got muddled. This morning Jughead was kissing Veronica in the student lounge, and hours later Veronica was having what could only be described as a couple’s quarrel with Archie and she was splitting sandwiches with Jughead in the kitchen. 

Betty had just about given up on wrapping her head around the day when her phone lit up with a notification from Archie.  _ We need to talk.  _ She typed out a quick response and in minutes she was knocking on the doorframe of his bedroom.

Something was different this time when she looked in. When she panned across Archie’s room she didn’t feel the absence of Veronica’s presence, she saw the fort they’d built by his bed and camped under for a week straight in the fourth grade, and the corner where they spread out his comforter to listen to Fred’s vinyl’s until Alice came banging on the front door, and the corner of his bed where she asked them to give this thing a try.  _ This thing,  _ she thought,  _ this thing is a mess. _

Archie swiveled in his chair, standing as soon as he saw Betty standing there. In two quick steps, he was in front of her. His eyes were set on the photo on the wall behind her shoulder, and she didn’t need to turn to know the picture was of Fred. 

“Do you want to sit?” He asked, leading her towards his bed. They both sat down and he raked his hand through his hair, which - though always in disarray - was even more disheveled than usual. 

“I’m going to talk and I have a lot I’ve been needing to say but I’m not as good with words as you so if you could just let me finish before you start talking…” He spoke quickly, continuously shoving his hair back even though it wasn’t falling into his face.

“Arch, slow down. It’s okay.” Betty held his hand steady, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, “Whatever it is I’ll listen.”

He took a moment to slow his breathing, “I love you, Betty Cooper. I promise I do. But I love you in a call you at three in the morning to talk about my parents, share a milkshake at Pop’s, look out into the crowd whatever I’m doing and see you there kind of way. In a best friend kind of way.” He placed his free hand on top of hers and looked her in the eyes. They weren’t two kids promising to marry each other anymore, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be. Maybe this was better.

“Before Veronica, when I thought about the life I wanted to have, you fit the picture. Maybe you still do. But when I was with her? I didn’t care about what the future held as long as she was in it. And I think that’s the kind of love you deserve. I think you deserve someone who wants to build a life with you, not be with you because of the life they want to build. And I don’t want to keep wasting your time just because I don’t want to lose you. Because we’re better than that. We’re stronger than that.” 

Betty felt the tightness unraveling in her chest, and it was only then that she realized how much she wanted this moment since the beginning of whatever they were doing began. Cheryl was right - she always wanted the idea of the perfect childhood romance. She didn’t want Archie.

“I love you too, Arch.” She bubbled, collapsing into his arms. If anything, she could count this as one good thing that day. They didn’t have to be together to not fall apart, and they were both finally ready to admit that. 


	10. Chapter 10

His breathing was shallow and even, like he knew he could depend on every breath being there. Like the oxygen might never run out. Hers used to be like that, too. In New York when she walked around with rose-colored lenses -  _ Park Avenue Princess.  _ The nickname taunted her, but on occasion, she longed for the simplicity of her old life. When the worst thing that could happen to her was a messy tabloid photo and a hangover. Reggie felt like those times - simple. Rose-colored and perfect.  _ He  _ didn’t fight crime at night or get into personal vendettas with her father. They ran a business together and, even better, they worked  _ well  _ together. Even romantically. He knew what she liked and where she liked to be brought. She couldn’t have built a better boy. But his  _ breathing.  _ Shallow and even. Archie didn’t breathe like that. He drew in each breath like it might be his last. He knew the air around them might vanish from the room at a moment’s notice and he’d have to be ready for it. Because in Riverdale? It actually might. And the fact that Reggie took the oxygen for granted actually  _ irritated  _ her. And that’s why she told herself she did it. 

Veronica sat up in his bed - his comfortable, dependable bed with dark purple sheets, and hung her feet off the edge. It was like she was debating whether she should make the leap down from the place of comfort or continue to swaddle herself in fantasy. She didn’t go home after the incident with the fox - she parked her car at them Pembrooke and walked here. And she’d been camping out in the imaginary world of her and Reggie all weekend - but reality was encroaching in, in the form of a lack of a change of clothes. She couldn’t stay there any longer - and not just because she’d exhausted her overnight bag, but because everything about her and Reggie was right. All of their broken edges fit together and she still didn’t love him. Because it didn’t matter how right they were for each other - it felt wrong. 

Slowly, Veronica began collecting her things. Working at a restricted speed so as to not wake Reggie from his place on the bed. It wouldn’t matter much, either way, he was a heavy sleeper, whereas Archie stirred at the smallest disturbance. A side effect of his sleepless days waiting for the Black Hood. It was only when she winced after accidentally bumping the fully packed bag off of his dresser did he rouse. Reggie rubbed his eyes and stretched out his arms like this was any other morning to him. He had no idea what she was thinking - he couldn’t read her, and as a consequence, it showed him taking yet another thing for granted. Just like his breaths, he never stopped to consider the day his slow mornings with Veronica might come to an end. 

“Good morning.” He yawned, sitting up from his place. He was still very much half-asleep and didn’t notice the way Veronica had scooped up her bag and was standing near the door like a flightless bird ready to try to take off. 

“Reggie,” Her voice broke and she tilted her head when she looked at him, still so unaware, “Reg I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

“That’s alright Veronica, I didn’t think you were going to move in.” He half-laughed, “Do you want me to go to yours tonight instead?” 

Her chest felt heavy and for a moment she thought she might be sick. His eyebrows slanted together when she didn’t respond immediately, and he watched on as she stood there silently toying with the string of pearls around her neck.

“No, Reggie, I don’t think I can do  _ this  _ anymore.  _ Us.”  _ Her chin quivered when she spoke and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying. It would’ve probably been better for him to see her cry, to see that she cared at least a little, in the end. But she couldn’t do that, not even for him.

“Woah, wait. Veronica.” Reggie was standing now, dressed in nothing but his boxers to contrast Veronica in her tights and fully buttoned coat. It was exactly as they were - he was open to her, and she’d always closed herself off to him. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s not you-” She started before getting cut off by him letting out a harsh breath. She knew he wouldn’t respond well to cliches, no matter how true they were to their situation. He didn’t want to hear comforting words like  _ it’s not you, it’s me,  _ the only thing he wanted to hear was the only thing she couldn’t tell him.  _ I love you. _

“No - no. This is it. If you end it with me now I’m not handing myself over to you for any more chances. If you walk away from us now we’re  _ done.  _ Forever.”

His words were stringent but his face was pleading. But she wasn’t turning back. There was no back-pedaling this - they couldn’t rewind the tape.

“Goodbye, Reggie.” When she walked out of his room she didn’t look back. She heard him curse and probably knock something over - nothing big. Nothing to bring around his father’s attention. And when she hit the street she wondered if she  _ should  _ cry, if that would be the right thing to do. But she wasn’t sure what she’d be crying over - their lost relationship? Guilt? Neither of those things felt like something she wanted to shed a tear over. Because whether or not she was using Reggie was uncertain, but she did know that - for a little while at least - being with him  _ did  _ make her feel better. Their relationship simply had a shelf life, and they’d expired. Any other expectation for them would be unrealistic, and she told herself to not hold herself accountable for him not thinking practically.

On the way back to the Pembrooke, Veronica walked down Elm Street. The street she’d familiarized herself with the most in Riverdale. Walking with Betty after Vixen practice, or with Archie after school. Dancing under the stars in both of their backyards with nothing but a red cooler and Fred’s record player. Teetering with Jughead, drunk and newly broken. Just thinking about how far they’d all come, made her feel surprisingly empty. And the worst part for her was realizing how the first day back to school after that night with Jughead, they’d readily condemned Betty and Archie for how quickly they’d moved on - but in reality, it was her who had never taken the time to properly grieve the relationship. Veronica believed that everyone got one  _ big  _ love in their life. It didn’t have to be their soulmate or the person they’d spend their whole lives with, but it would be the big one that would help define what love really was for a person. A love so big it never ended - not really. And she always thought that that was what Archie was to her - her big love. And instead of allowing herself to mourn the loss of that, she forced herself into new flings and relationships to move on. Making one mistake after another. So maybe, just maybe, she figured that if she took the time to actually put her and Archie behind her, she might finally move forward.

At home at the Pembrooke, Veronica finally started to strip Archie Andrews from her life. She labeled two cardboard boxes:  _ His  _ and  _ Ours.  _ Every drawer, shelf, and corner of her room was opened and picked through to find every last crumb of him until the first of the two boxes was stacked with boxer shorts and button-up shirts while the second she’d stuffed with bedsheets and shirts that reeked of the memory of him. Anything that so much as  _ reminded  _ her of him, she wanted gone.  _ It’s only clutter,  _ she told herself as she undressed her mattress and stowed the sheets away in a discard pile, figuring that she’d go to college without a single thing from this town. Including him. It would be a  _ new  _ new start for her. And she would get it right this time. She’d fall in love with the right people and maybe not get her heart broken. 

When she was finished, her room looked practically uninhabited. She put the boxes in the corner and tried to ignore Archie’s phantom presence in the space. She did her homework, worked on her business model for the rum company, and even FaceTimed Cheryl just to keep herself busy. But, at the end of the day when she was laying in her naked bed, covered only by a blanket she’d stolen from the living room, she couldn’t sleep. It was like putting all of his things together somehow made his presence stronger - more pungent. After a few hours of tossing and turning, she got out of bed. Without even changing out of her pajamas she threw on a coat, grabbed  _ His  _ box, and marched out of the apartment. She needed this to be over. She needed  _ them  _ to be over. 

The night was cold and unforgiving, despite the fact that they were well into spring. It was a cloudy night, so she had nothing but streetlamps and her own headlights to guide her on. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if there was any light at all. Veronica didn’t even need to think to know how to get there - she’d driven this route so many times she could do it in her sleep. But it did feel different. Maybe the roads were a little worse or the for sale sign outside of the Klump’s house was moved a little to the left, but something was different. And maybe that thing was her. 

Veronica pulled into the Andrews’ driveway in a single motion and, although the lights were still on, she felt guilty knocking on the door. Archie used to leave the door unlocked for her, and when he didn’t she knew where they left the spare key, but that was how she would enter the house when she was Archie’s girlfriend. Now she wasn’t even sure if they were friends. So she knocked and Mary opened the door adorned in the Armani bathrobe she’d given her - it was a part of a set that Veronica had purchased when Archie told her that she came out to him. One for her, and one for her girlfriend. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, Mrs. Andrews. I just - I couldn’t sleep.” She sniffled - an action she’d attributed to the weather rather than any emotions of her own. 

Mary’s gentle features always made her appear more apologetic than she might’ve been - a characteristic she often exploited to her own advantage in court. But when she looked down at Veronica, puffy-eyed and shivering on her front step with a cardboard box at half-past eleven, it was more than her face that was apologetic. She’d tried to contact her a few times after she heard about their break-up, after all, she’d grown quite fond of Veronica. But she never heard back from her, and she didn’t blame her. When she finally pieced together what had happened between the two of them she found it difficult, for the first time in her life, to be on her son's side. 

“He’s in his room.” She said softly, stepping aside to allow Veronica in. But she didn’t move forward. She continued to roll back and forth on the balls of her feet, which were dressed in nothing more than a pair of fuzzy socks.

“Actually, could you just-” Her voice pitched up and she held the box out in front of her. She thought she could do it herself but, standing outside of his house she suddenly felt incapable of anything at all. 

Mary merely shook her head and returned to the kitchen, leaving the door open for Veronica to come inside. She and Brooke were drinking some tea before bed - call it maternal instinct, but something had told Mary to go to bed a bit later that night. They tried to resume their conversation, but their attention kept getting drawn over to Veronica who looked frozen in place. She was like some tragedy that they couldn’t pull their eyes away from, a car crash on the side of the road. She still hadn’t moved by the time they finished their drinks, and they both glanced over at her with pity when they retreated upstairs.

A part of Veronica wanted Mary to scold her. To tell her she was letting the bugs inside and to just go home if she wasn’t going to come in already. But her message was simple - she could do this, but she had to do it herself. Finally, she swallowed her fears and stepped inside, closing the door behind her with her shoulder.  _ First baby step, done  _ she told herself,  _ Next? Get up the stairs.  _ It was a task easier said than done. The walk up to Archie’s room was haunting, to say the least. She’d walked up those steps hundreds of times - running, laughing,  _ crying,  _ even. Each time she knew, one way or another, that she’d be back. Not this time. This time she was sure it would be the last. 

Hung up on the walls were pictures of a happy family that she’d spent the last three years admiring. She used to look at the smiling little boy with crazy red hair and imagine if that’s how their son might look, too, if they ever had kids together. She fantasized about moving back to this house with their perfect little family - hell, she’d even had plans to buy the house from Mary before she moved back to Chicago with Brooke. All so that she and Archie could raise their kids in the house that Fred had built - but it was all too apparent to her now that there were far too many ghosts here in Riverdale for her to ever come back.

Upstairs, everything looked exactly how she had left it in April. Even down to the photo of her that he kept on his desk - she wondered if he and Betty had ever fought over it. If he and Betty ever fought. It was stupid - but she couldn’t help herself. She used to spend her days imagining her life with Archie, it almost felt natural to fill that time now imagining his life without her. 

Archie was sitting on his bed, heavily engrossed in some trigonometry. His textbook and school supplies were sprawled around him, and Veronica took note of how he still chewed the inside of his cheek when he was thinking.  _ Nothing has changed,  _ her mind reiterated. Except, she had changed. And maybe he had, too. Maybe for the first time since he laid his eyes on her in Pop’s they weren’t growing together, they were growing apart. There was a small pang in her chest that caused her to inhale sharply. Too sharply, it would seem, because it made him look up.

“Ronnie.” He said her name in a single breath - like it’d been waiting at the tip of his tongue. Like it was the only word his mouth was proficient in. Archie scrambled to his feet, knocking some loose worksheets and notes to the ground in the process. He’d almost looked hopeful… until he noticed the box. 

“ _ Ronnie?”  _ He repeated her name like a question this time - a detail that almost got lost behind the sound of Veronica’s teeth grinding together. She hadn’t even noticed that she was clenching her jaw until the muscle felt sore when she released it to speak. 

“I figured it was probably time I brought you your things.” A look of understanding registered on his face and he looked down at the box like she was holding the dead animal they had found in the woods, and the sight of it made him sick. He didn’t want his stuff back - he wanted  _ her  _ back, and he didn’t want to learn that he had been too late.

“Don’t do this, please?” His eyes shifted to the side, his eyes already glazed with a glassy layer of tears. Veronica tried to place the box into his hands, but he didn’t take it. Instead, the box clattered to the ground between them, spilling the top layer of its contents around them. In the real world, they were no more than two feet apart, but in Veronica’s mind? They were miles apart. 

Veronica wrapped her arms tightly around herself, thinking that maybe she might be able to console herself. “Why are you making this harder than it already is, Archie?” Her heart sank when she looked at him, and her vision blurred. She was tired of hiding her feelings from him, tired of avoiding him, and above all, she was beyond exhausted from loving him.

“I ended things with Betty.” He spoke frantically now like he was running out of time. Veronica just hugged herself tighter, not wanting to admit to the steady stream of tears pouring over her cheeks. “I chose you, Veronica - and I’ll do it again and again until you choose me too.” 

His hands lifted to her face and he stepped over his spilled things to move directly in front of her. Inches, now. There were _inches_ between them. He could lean in if he wanted to - it would take seconds. Then he could taste her _one last time._ He could press his lips against hers and hold her close and not let go this time. But she didn’t want him to. Because she knew that if he did, she would be his to break all over again. So he kept his hands cradled around her face, wiping away her tears.

“Because we’re not finished. I’m not finished loving you yet.” Archie whispered, brushing her hair back. Veronica chose to focus on her own breathing rather than how it felt to feel his skin on her own again - even if it was just his fingertips. Her breaths were quick and shallow and it almost felt like she was drowning. She squeezed her eyes shut - not wanting to see his face when she did it. 

Veronica took Archie’s hands into her own and pulled them away from her face. 

“That’s the difference between you and me, Archie. For me, it was never a choice.” She opened her eyes again, keeping them dropped to the ground, watching her own feet walk out of the room, “It was always you.” 

As Veronica walked away she could hear Archie calling after her, but she wasn’t listening. She was running. She ran out of his house and down the street and reached the end of the block before she threw up into the gutter and collapsed on the pavement. Her walls, the walls that she’d been building and keeping together with tape and glue, fell apart. Even as she pressed herself into the hard ground to try to keep herself from shaking, she couldn’t stop. She felt raw and stripped naked, like she was unraveling. All that time she had been holding together a broken building and she was finally finished. She had no choice now, but to start building something new.


	11. Chapter 11

_ The Jughead Special.  _ That’s what Pop started referring to what had become the Jones’ go-to phone-in order. Two burgers (per person), large fries (with an extra scoop thrown  _ into  _ the bag, courtesy of Pop himself), and extra-large - extra- _ thick  _ \- milkshakes. Even though the order had become somewhat of a regular thing, Jughead still thought of it as this novelty comfort meal. Like it could make any situation better - even, if not especially, trying to solve another of Riverdales heinous crimes on the floor of the Blue and Gold. 

_ Trying  _ being the notable word in this situation.

“Okay, okay.” Betty laughed as she rummaged through the bottom of the brown Pop’s bag in search of a rogue bag-fry. She held her tongue between her teeth when she triumphantly raised a slender golden fry above her head, beaming as she expertly dipped it into her milkshake before she continued her complaint of the  _ totally predictable  _ and  _ unsatisfying ending  _ of an 80’s B-film. 

Jughead leaned back, propping his upper body up on his elbow and forearm as he watched her talk. He’d never admit it, of course, but he always enjoyed the way Betty’s mouth moved when she spoke about something she was genuinely passionate about. Normally her words were carefully formed and thought out, making her have the same presence as every other intellect. But when she laced fire into her sentences? When she spoke so quickly she almost forgot to take a breath?  _ That  _ was when Jughead thought she was a force to be reckoned with. Because no ordinary person could demand  _ that  _ much attention with a simple film review - no ordinary person deserved it. 

He tapped his head against the leg of the table he was half-laying under. Before they might’ve rearranged the room - haphazardly pushed desks and chairs into the corners to open up the space in the middle for them and their impromptu Pop’s picnic. But, then again, Before Jughead would have never allowed the Blue and Gold to be turned into a storage space for glitter streamers and paper mache skylights.

“Counterpoint,” He started, pointing the end of his fry towards her, “maybe the reason the murderer was so obvious was to make us question what’s real and what isn’t.” 

“Excellent point.”

The pair clinked paper cups and fell back into another fit of laughter. A few hours ago, when they first took the leap to work on their three cases together, they exchanged only a few words - and they were all associated with Mr. Honey, the vixen, or the tapes. Not that there was much room for any other conversation anyways, with Jughead busy scanning through surveillance footage and listening to audio-bits while Betty plotted out another one of their infamous murder boards - but there was still a nagging feeling of needing to break the tension. Jughead simply had not imagined that breaking the tension would start with a heavy sight and a one-off  _ I feel like I’m in The Vanishing remake. There’s all this information and yet I’m bored.  _ By the time Betty offered for them to order in from Pop’s for a break, it was pretty much over for them. Whatever grievances they were holding against each other, had dissolved and they were laughing like they did Before. 

When their laughter died down and they were both a bit more subdued, Betty started to collect their wrappers and napkins and move them to the trash bin, only realizing how long they’d been on the floor together when her legs felt still upon standing.

“God, sorry about all of the decorations,” She gestured out to the entire room where only the table they’d stacked their physical evidence on and the floor they’d claimed while eating was untouched by elaborate decorations. “I promised Cheryl she could use the room for storage for the prom.”

Jughead pushed himself up from his forearms, repositioning himself into a cross-legged position that would undoubtedly bring a tingling sensation to his feet, and lifted a nearby streamer up with the end of his pencil. The material of the streamer was more akin to a ribbon than the paper quality he was used to from dollar stores and party shops, but it wasn’t unthinkable for Cheryl Blossom to special order in some extravagant streamer for what would clearly be a heavily ornamented prom. If not for herself, then certainly because spending well outside of her given prom budget was likely her final form of protest against Mr. Honey before he resigned. 

“While they may be a bit on the excessive side - they really don’t bother me. This is probably as close to the actual dance as I’ll be getting anyways.”

A sharp breath blew out of Betty’s nose and she pulled the pink panels of her cardigan more closely around her chest, “Yeah, I honestly should probably take a few pictures while we’re her so my mom doesn’t freak out about me missing out on another  _ normal high school experience.” _

Jughead’s eyes traced over her face, searching for something. Though he wasn’t quite sure what.

“You’re not going with Archie?” He drew his lip between his teeth, actively electing to  _ not  _ notice the hints of optimism in his voice.

Betty returned to her place on the floor beside him, uncertain of whether or not she was ready to have this conversation with him. Her hands pulled at the documents she’d previously laid out in front of her as she considered her next words. Before Jughead had even asked if she wanted to work together on the cases, Betty wanted to tell him that she and Archie had broken up - not that there was much to break apart to begin with. As soon as she’d walked back home from Archie’s house she wanted to run into Jughead’s room and tell him  _ it’s over - it’s finally over.  _ She’d rehearsed several different ways to go about the conversation, but when they started talking and laughing like they used to, she didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Oh… yeah. We’re not really together anymore. We never really were, really.” Was not one of the many different variations she’d practiced to break the news, and the moment the words left her mouth she began to mentally belittle herself, thinking,  _ oh yeah we’re not really together anymore’, out of all the different scenarios you practiced in none of them did you sound like a speechless idiot.  _

Jughead’s hand lulled over his mousepad as he processed her words. He’d spent the past several weeks  _ wishing  _ to hear Betty tell him something along the lines of  _ me and Archie broke up,  _ and now that he’d heard just that he didn’t feel the wave of relief or satisfaction that he’d expected. The thing about pretending to be over someone is that it’s a lot easier to do when they aren’t even an option.  _ Wanting  _ Betty used to not be an option. Even if Betty and Archie didn’t stand by the laws of “bro code” or, as Jughead thought of them, human decency, the moment they became somewhat of an item Betty became off-limits to him. While he could never truly bring himself to do it, it did make it a lot easier to  _ pretend  _ to hate her. So much so that he hoped one day he’d believe that hatred was real and he wouldn’t want her anymore. But hearing that she was here and they were laughing and it was almost like nothing had changed and he was free to  _ want  _ her, changed that. All of the desire he’d been trying to lock out of his heart - he could let himself have. But he didn’t know if he wanted to have it, or if the wanting itself became the unachievable desire, instead of Betty.

Jughead picked up the photos that Betty had been sorting through, hoping to reconcentrate his thoughts on something he understood. He might not have had the best understanding of his own feelings or the correct way to carry on after learning the girl who broke his heart and he was supposed to hate was available again - but he  _ did  _ understand crime. Even seemingly unsolvable crimes of unidentified corpses and dead foxes in the woods.

“I missed this.” She said softly, peering at him through her eyelashes. Her chin tipped down towards her chest and her hands pressed against each other. Jughead didn’t look up, his eyes continued to linger on the stills of bloody bodies and videotapes. For a moment, Betty worried they might have slid back to the same apprehensive state they started in - as though they might never move forward, and only have temporary lapses back. And she wasn’t sure how much more of their almost-normal she could take.

“Yeah, me too.” Jughead mumbled after a minute, lifting a transcript he’d printed out from an interview at the sheriff’s office - courtesy of a bug he’d placed while he was helping his dad pack up his things. The interview was more of a conversation than anything between the stand-in sheriff and Hiram Lodge. And as much as he wished he could place all of Riverdale’s problems on Hiram - the conversation was not incriminatory and it was about as lively as the one he wasn’t having with Betty at the moment.

He poured over the meaningless comments and mayoral congratulations - reading and re-reading them until he could practically recite the pages word for word. But his attention could hardly stay there, not when she was sitting right next to him. She shifted slightly, hunching forward to be closer to her screen - likely because she was scrolling through her collection of digital files on the case - an assemblage of autopsy reports and stolen information she’d acquired when she was working alone. The information she was combing through was evidently no more interesting than Jughead’s, because her nose kept twitching, which it only did when she had something to say that she wasn’t. Betty’s hands moved over the keys as though the feel of them alone might reveal hidden information to her - and to him, it was remarkable. Everything about her was. 

Jughead didn’t know why either of them ever thought they were compatible. They were so different. Her brain operated in short quips of information whereas his trailed on in long monologues of thought. If they weren’t speaking, it was almost impossible to know what the other was thinking.

He set the files down and squared his shoulders off to her. The movement caused her attention to lift from her screen.

“Why’d you do it?” He spoke flatly. There was no pain or accusation in his voice. He didn’t want pity or to hurt her - he wanted answers. Because no matter how many times he ran the situation through his head, he couldn’t figure it out.

Betty’s chest fell as she sighed, shutting her laptop, “We were so in the moment - or so caught up pretending to be in a moment that passed us by years ago. Like we were trying to run back the clock and be the people we were before our dad’s died. And for a split second, we were just those fifteen-year-old kids waiting for Fred Andrews to pick us from Pop’s after work.”

Jughead shook his head, “No. No, I don’t care about the moments you two spent existing on your own existential timeline,” His hand racked through his hair and suddenly Betty became very aware of the fact that it had been a long time since she’d seen him wearing his beanie. “Why did you stay with him. Why didn’t you fight for us.” 

_ Oh,  _ she thought,  _ that ‘it’.  _ That was precisely the question she was very actively trying to  _ not _ ask herself. She’d spent the entire duration of her “relationship” with Archie rationalizing it - but she never really thought about why she started it. Everything happened so quickly and it all felt so  _ final.  _ Like they were all just doing what they needed to survive.

Betty’s eyes shut as she recalled the day they’d all gone into fight or flight. She’d gone into his room to air a theory about the tape they’d watched in the woods - thinking that maybe the town never recovered from their tryst with G&G and they were still navigating through a series of quests. _ Hey Jug, do you think -  _ the words had barely left her mouth when her eyes took in the sight before her. When she saw what he had been seeing. He’d rhetorically questioned the validity of the tapes - sounding so small. And then it happened. Somewhere between Jughead shrinking to be half the person she knew him as and him lacing the words  _ get out of my room  _ with poison, she’d lost her hope.

“It was the way you looked at me.” She answered, finally understanding the moment, “I’d never seen you look at anything that way - like I… _ disgusted  _ you. I wanted to give you time to be able to look at me - or even say my name. But I didn’t think that would ever happen again. I had taken this perfect thing, and broken it all for a fifteen year olds fantasy.” She pressed a hand to her throat, remembering the way her searing sobs physically  _ hurt  _ her just outside of his door, “So I ran back to Archie. Because I didn’t want to lose you for nothing. I-I thought that maybe if I could learn to love Archie the way I loved you then it all would have been worth it. I wouldn’t have lost  _ everything  _ over nothing.” 

She stopped talking for a moment, still fighting to hold herself together. She didn’t want to wonder how things might’ve ended up if she held on for longer. If she’d taken the same advice she’d given Veronica before and fought to stay there in the room. If she fought for them. She felt childish and stupid - and  _ oh the damage two damaged kids can do to each other.  _

“We only kissed one time after that, and that was it, Jug.” Betty wiped a tear off on the corner of her sweater, “And the entire time all I could think was how I can’t even remember our last one. And how every new kiss for the rest of my life will just be another one that separates me from ever remembering it.”

She let out a tired laugh and started to reach for the things she’d brought to investigate. It was unlikely they’d get any further on the case with the material they had and it was unlikely they’d get any further with themselves so she figured it’d be best if she started packing for the day.

“It was the same day. The day I got the tape.” Jughead started as she placed her thick manila folder in her backpack. Her hands stilled as he began to speak. His eyes were glazed over and he was looking straight ahead like he could see the memory playing out in front of him on a screen, “Before I read Mr. Honey’s letter or changed my story. We came home from school together and I went right for the kitchen. You kissed me before you went upstairs but I’d already started eating so I’m sure it tasted like onion or cheese or something. But we didn’t care, we didn’t know it would be the last time we kissed.” 

Her eyes lifted and she realized both of them had let their tears fall. Not profound or noteworthy tears - the silent kind, that fell without either their permission or notice. 

“ _ The last time we kissed.”  _ He repeated, more quietly this time. His mind trailed back to the last kiss he’d had - with Veronica one room over. It was a cruel attempt at pushing Betty both out of his head and his life - and he supposed she wasn’t the only one making stupid irrational decisions to survive. Was that what it was the time before in the woods when he and Veronica had almost kissed in front of the wall?  _ The wall.  _ He realized before repeating the thought aloud. 

“What?”

“Come on.” Jughead shoved his laptop and files into his bag and grabbed Betty’s hand before dragging her out to the parking lot. She followed him into his car without question - even when he’d insisted they stop by the house to pick up the masks, or when he had her triple-check that the Reggie one was there. Soon they were parked outside of Stonewall Prep. 

The pair made their way towards the racing stables. The path came naturally to Jughead - and not just because he’d frequent the stables when his roommates overwhelmed him. It was hard to forget the route there when the journey  _ to  _ the stables was really the only part he wanted to remember. 

“You want to explain what this is now Jughead?” Betty handed over the Reggie mask in front of what appeared to her to be a - weird, yes, but not nearly interesting enough to leave the Blue and Gold in such a hurry - stone box of sorts. 

“When Veronica and I came here she showed me how this wall worked because of an old tape her father got or whatever. It wasn’t until we were talking and I was looking at the picture of the note in the Reggie mask that I realized,” He pushed in the correct stones to reveal the scanner, operating on sixty percent memory and forty percent luck. “These aren’t threats, they're clues. They  _ want  _ us to find things now”. He held the mask up to the scanner and the stones began to fold back to form a make-shift entrance into a single room that spilled out three inches of water. 

Betty and Jughead both turned on their phone flashlights and stepped into the space, with no regard for the water spilling into their own shoes. Inside the room, there was an open coffin with two crowns laying in theatre grade velvet set in the middle of the room surrounded by floating pink carnations. 

“What do you think it means?” Betty asked, switching to her camera to take pictures of the space.

“I  _ think”  _ Jughead started, dropping the Reggie mask in exchange for one of the crowns, “It means we’re going to the prom after all, Betty Cooper.”


	12. Chapter 12

Betty leaned into the mirror, applying a final layer of lip gloss. While, officially, Jughead hadn’t asked her to the dance and the two were simply going as part of an investigation, she’d also, _un-_ officially, had her prom dress since February, so she wasn’t going to let a technicality keep her from at least looking the part of a girl on prom night. Her dress was an emerald shade and flowed seamlessly from the strapless top down to the hem of the ballgown. She and Veronica had decided on jewel tones for their final high school dance. Her days of pastel pinks and blues were behind her. A part of her wanted to peer out the window to see if Veronica and Archie would be debuting tonight in her token mulberry color. Because Veronica didn’t need to move beyond pretty pinks and baby blues - she’d known exactly who she was all along. 

Jughead propped himself up against her door frame, watching as she repositioned where her hair fell onto her shoulders.”I’m not sure this is going to match.” He said, startling her as he held out the pink carnation corsage he’d picked up while she was getting ready. The flower wasn’t low in stock at the town’s florist, despite it being prom morning. Likely because it typically symbolized death or remembrance of the deceased. But Jughead was hopeful that maybe together he and Betty could change that. Maybe together they could take old, dead things and make them new again. They could make _them_ new again.

“Betty Cooper, will you go to prom with me?” He asked as she walked over to him with her arm extended, ready to slip the flower onto her wrist.

“I would love to.” She didn’t stop moving forward after her wrist was adorned with the carnation. Hesitantly, she kept inching toward him until their foreheads were up against each other - neither one of them pulling or pushing away. Slowly, inexorably, their lips pressed together. It’s impossible to know who gave into who - but the kiss was soft and gentle and there were no notable fireworks or sparks, because they were already beyond that. They were too busy filling each other with so much warmth it was overflowing - over _powering,_ even, until every inch of them - every scar, crack, and crook was completely saturated in love, to even notice the spark that was always there. And neither of them wanted to pull away - because they knew this would be their _last_ first kiss. 

After dutifully posing for Alice in the living room, on the stairs, _and_ outside of the house, Betty and Jughead made their way to the dance. Cheryl clearly hadn’t held back and had put every last decoration from the Blue and Gold to good use. The high school’s gym was entirely unrecognizable and indistinguishable from the actual Van Gogh painting the dance was named for, all thanks to her craftful hands. The warehouse-style ceiling was masked by the woven streamers - which also served to hold the starlights and moon decorations just above their heads. Thick sheets of fabric were draped over the bleachers and the stage was backlit with silhouettes of the town in the painting. It was enough to make everyone forget they were in Riverdale and not Saint-Rémy-de-Provénce. And it was enough to make Betty and Jughead forget they weren’t just attending to be at a high school dance.

Veronica had little to no intention of attending the prom - especially since all of her potential dates weren’t exactly available for her anymore. But not only had Betty and Jughead made it very apparent to her and Archie that this was not an elective activity - Hermosa was particularly persistent in her attendance. And the last thing Veronica would let happen was Hermosa being able to run to Hiram with any information about her - even if that information was as simple as her not going to prom. Besides, it would be a shame to let her dress go to waste. 

Archie paced back and forth between the lockers. He’d been waiting for her in the hallway since she insisted on them arriving to the dance separately - even though they’d be spending the evening together for _investigative purposes._ The reality was that she was just nervous that - given the last dance they’d attended as strictly ‘friends’ - she might need a reason to _not_ go home with him. He was nervous as well, though Veronica ending up at his house at the end of the night was far from his mind. While this wasn’t going to be the first time they’d been together since the night she brought over his things - it certainly was the first time they’d be _alone_ together. And neither of them was sure how they were supposed to feel. She wasn’t pining or hurt anymore and he had stopped mopping every time their eyes so much as met in the hallway. It was like they were able to resume that hazy phase of civility they always fell into after a breakup. But it felt different - like they were waiting for something. Standing in the eye of the hurricane. 

Archie’s breath hitched in his throat when Veronica stepped inside, sliding her umbrella closed in a single fluid motion. Time could have stopped and he wouldn’t have noticed. The moment the door opened all he could pay attention to was the way her dress clung to her body perfectly, though it looked one stitch away from splitting in half. The deep neckline nearly met the long slit over her left leg, leaving miles of her skin bare and prickled from the cold weather. When she’d purchased the dress she felt empowered - but now she just felt exposed. Exposed and stupid in the very informal hallway of Riverdale High. 

Veronica looked behind her, uncertain if she could claim credit for the slacked expression on Archie’s face. When she confirmed there was no one but them in the hallway, she strode up to him, tipping his chin up with her forefinger.

“We’re here to catch murderers, not flies.” She said cooly, handing off her umbrella to him. 

“Right - yeah.” He stammered, tangling the string from the umbrella between his fingers. “You look-”  
“Let’s drop off your coat, shall we?” She led him over to the make-shift drop-off station they’d made out of the clothing racks from the theatre department, the student longue, and some unfortunate underclassmen still groveling to get in Cheryl’s good graces before graduation. A particularly eager student, who was severely over-dressed compared to his business casual counterparts, handed Archie a ticket in exchange for all of their extra belongings and the pair made their way into the dance. 

To describe the gym upon their arrival as _thunderous_ would have been a gross understatement. Having arrived well past the fashionably-late mark, the dance had reached what Veronica imagined was the climax of its raucousness. The newest Blueface song was playing and it had all but sent their peers into a drunken frenzy. Reggie - who attended the dance with a small selection of other newly single Bulldogs - had his tie wrapped around his forehead and was pouring what - for legal purposes - could only be described as water into Toni’s mouth as Cheryl trailed her hand along her girlfriend's body. Underage intoxication and high libidos - they were about the only two things you could depend on in Riverdale. 

Cheryl’s attention turned to where Archie and Veronica were standing in the entryway - her lips spread out into a smile as she ran over to them, engulfing Veronica in red tulle as she wrapped her arms around her, nearly knocking them both over. 

“Veronica Lodge - you just cost me a hundred dollars.” She whispered before planting a sloppy red kiss half-on Veronica’s lips and half on her cheek - introducing the sappy taste of their own maple rum to her tongue. “I bet _against_ you and Archie getting back together… though probably for selfish reasons.”

Veronica cleared her throat, “Oh - we’re not-” She turned to Archie, whose cheeks were beginning to match his hair.

“Punch?” He offered, dismissing himself to the beverage table, where Mrs. Burble was readily protecting the bowl of punch from any wandering flasks. Blissfully unaware of the fact that the Serpents had snuck into the cafeteria the night before to spike the bowl.

Veronica’s gaze followed Archie over, watching as the school therapist held the drinks hostage to keep him locked in conversation. She tried to not imagine what they might be discussing - what he might have talked about in her office that was now bleeding out into what appeared to be a rather intense conversation at a school dance. Had he talked about her? And if he had - was Burble telling him he was better off without her? How seriously could any of them take the advice of someone who had diagnosed her with Oedipus-level _daddy issues?_

“Incredible, isn’t she?” Cheryl leaned in, pulling Veronica’s attention back into the moment, “She helped me through the Julien haunting.” 

“I’m not sure-”

“Does she do couples therapy? Is that what changed for you and Archie?” 

“We-” 

Cheryl waved her off before Veronica could finish her thought, much less her sentence. She sang off a reminder to _vote Blossom-Topaz_ and then slipped back into the crowd, disappearing between sweaty shoulders and stomping feet. When Veronica’s focus wandered back over to Archie and the punch she was almost embarrassed to realize that she was laughing. Because he was standing there - hands empty and shoved into his pockets, crossing and uncrossing his legs as Mrs. Burble psychoanalyzed his very presence at the dance - and he almost looked like the babbling boy she got locked in Cheryl’s closet with three years ago. 

Maybe he _was_ the same boy. Because weren’t they still having the same conversation? Three years or seven minutes - she was always asking _Is that all it is? Just friends?... Could it ever possibly be anything more?_ And even then he was making promises he couldn’t keep, with sugary words of _It’s not gonna happen… I’ve never felt -- whatever that thing I’m supposed to feel is -- with Betty._

Archie had finally been handed two low-filled cups of heavily spiked punch when Veronica’s phone lit up her hand. She could’ve waited for him to walk back over to her - could’ve waited to answer it together - but if the unknown number was any indicator that she would be speaking to the same person she had in the woods, she wanted to have the conversation alone. Veronica excused herself back out into the hallway, figuring that ten short minutes was probably enough prom for a lifetime anyway, and accepted the call.

“Hello?” She answered, ignoring the greetings from her peers who had stepped out into the hall for a moment of fresh air and walking deeper into the school in an attempt to better dilute the sounds of the dance.

“Ms. Lodge, are you familiar with what happened at the last school dance?” The very un-mechanical voice of a man taunted her through the phone. They weren’t hiding behind voice alterations anymore. Once again they were either being the worst profligate in mystery-history - or they _wanted_ her to know that she was going to find them that night. That, for whatever reason, they were no longer concerned with whether or not Veronica knew who they were. 

“If you don’t want a repeat of last year’s tragedies, I recommend you meet us by the River’s edge.” The line cut out before Veronica could ask any questions. Though, it was likely she wouldn’t have needed to, anyways. Every word in their brief conversation made it abundantly clear to her what would be happening at the river that night. 

Veronica took in a sharp breath - the air around her had stretched thin into some tangible, temporary object. Like a sheer shawl draped heavily on her shoulders. It was terrifying - but it also felt like clarity. Like she’d been running around fighting herself and spending time like it was dense and endless, when the reality was it was this limited fragile thing that she’d wasted. And it was too late. 

“Who was that?” She jumped at the words. She’d almost forgotten she was in public, in a dress that left more of her exposed than not. Her hand flung up to the single teardrop pearl she had strung around her neck, and it felt like her confirmation all over again. Everything around her had faded into the shadows - _everything,_ except him. This boy that she loved without reason - this boy who she loved against time.

Veronica let her eyes wander - she looked up at the ceiling, over at the stray hair sticking up at the back of Archie’s head, and down to the floor. The feeling of clarity, it would seem, only extended far enough for a cognitive shift. Because she was still physically fighting herself to keep from looking into his eyes. To keep the two of them stupidly locked in this game of _who will break first -_ which wasn’t a game of pride or willpower. It was a game of idiocy. Of two people moving on when they didn’t want to, and hurting each other in the hopes of hurting themselves less. A game she was becoming eager to lose. Because she was finished - she could move away and throw out every last thing in her room without looking back, but she still couldn’t _quit_ him. And now, more than ever, it felt pointless to even try.

Their eyes met.

And neither of them looked away. _Who will break first._

Veronica’s hands fell back to her sides and she watched as the muscle in his jaw twitched. He was holding back his words - but she wouldn’t do that anymore. She’d held back more than enough of herself since she watched the tape - and if she held back any more she wouldn’t be Veronica Lodge anymore. She would be some other broken and worn down person who didn’t say the things they wanted to until it was too late. 

“You know I always thought of us as this legendary thing.” She aired, taking one small step toward him. He paused, eyes flitting away for a single moment.

“Legendary how?” 

“Transcending time, reason, _languages._ Like our love was so primordial it’d always be there - no matter how much we tore each other apart.”

“You thought about us tearing each other apart?”

She laughed, the corner of her mouth lifting up into something that likely resembled a smile. “Can you blame me? Given our history?”

“Is it supposed to be this hard?” Archie shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. 

“Nothing worth it is ever easy.” 

She hadn’t noticed how the space had closed between them - and when she did she wasn’t even sure which of them had bridged the gap. All she knew was that she was able to breathe him in. Everything that made Archie, _Archie._ And it was intoxicating - but it wasn’t enough. She pulled him in, placing one hand against his cheek and the other behind his neck, bringing him closer to her and standing on her toes to fill any remaining space. Her eyes fluttered shut - she didn’t need to see. She only needed to feel - feel their foreheads pressed together, their noses nudging back and forth, his hands pulling her against his body. His energy _coursing_ through her veins like she’d mainlined him. Their lips never touched - they didn’t have to. They just stood locked together - both of them breaking and rebuilding each other in the rubble. 

“Goodbye, Archiekins.” Veronica exhaled. Her fingertips brushed his hair back before resuming their position by her sides, and she did the one thing she’d become rather skilled at after the past few weeks of practice.

She walked away.

X

There wasn’t much light by the river - just the dim glow of her own fading headlights to help Veronica make out the two masked figures. She’d never traveled this far north on the river - to the space deemed Sweetwater Falls by the residents - though not by anyone else. The mighty falls were only a meager ten-foot drop whose grandeur could only be fully appreciated by middle schoolers looking for a place to dive that was deeper than the swimming hole. From the stories she was told she expected a small drop - but standing out in the cold with nothing but headlights, the sound of the water crashing into itself alone was enough to make her blood run cold. 

Veronica wondered if she should have changed before coming - if the frigid air and her open skin were just a recipe for disaster. But it was too late now - anything that was going to happen was already in motion, whether or not she was wearing her prom dress. A part of her felt like an intruder as she observed the figures. They stood just before the falls, at the edge of the water. Dressed in cloaks with their backs toward her - their identities were completely hidden from her already limited view.

“You know Halloween isn’t for another five months.” Veronica lifted the hem of her skirt as she descended the rocky area and approached the pair. She could’ve sworn she heard one of them stifle a laugh - but that was likely just the sound of her own ego. 

One of them turned and tossed a bag to her feet, “Fill it with rocks.” They instructed her. 

Veronica knelt down slowly, picking up the bag that was already mostly filled and adding small stones from around her. At first, they appeared to have similar patterns across the flat faces of the stones - but as her hands reached further down they became dark, damp, and identical. She remained quiet as she filled the bag, waiting to hear the voice again. Hoping she might place it.

“That’s enough now.” The same voice - the same unplaceable voice instructed, shining a light into her eyes. It was only after her eyes adjusted to the brightness that she was able to notice that the rocks she’d thought shared a pattern shared _words_ instead. Each dry stone had the words _sink or swim_ scrawled on them in the same messy ink handwriting that adorned the side of the tapes. “Put it on.”

“You’re insane.” She spat. In place of words or further instruction, the individual tilted the light to the side - exposing to her that they weren’t using a standard flashlight at all. The light that had been pressing into her eyes was a tactical light they had attached to the top of a pistol. 

Veronica’s heart dropped, and she felt like something shifted. Like she could see the last of her time sifting through fingers, and she wasn’t afraid. She was ready. The sound of the water became familiar to her, not unlike a lullaby. The woods might as well have been her nursery. It felt like she grew up there - and a part of her did. She’d made mistakes, she’d learned, she’d loved and she’d hated with nothing but Jughead and an evergreen audience. In the few seconds between the gun being pulled and Veronica having the backpack fastened to her chest with bike locks, her mind reeled back through every single moment she’d spent beneath a canopy of leaves, finally settling on her weightless day in the branches with Archie. And she thought that if her learning to climb was the last thing she ever thought of, everything might just be okay.

But life was hardly ever so kind as to let refracting sunlight and warm ginger kisses linger on her mind. 

“Sink or swim.” Both figures began to chant, edging her towards the water. They repeated the phrase over and over again until the words began to lose their meaning. When her feet hit the water - when the icy bed where so many unfound bodies rest lapped at her ankles - Veronica narrowed her focus to the sound of their voices. To the familiarity or the lack thereof. Soon she was knee-deep and they continued to press forward - until she wasn’t sure if she was fighting their pushing, or the waters pull. 

It might have been an undercurrent, or the slightest wobble in her foot, or the blow to her shoulder, or everything all at once. But Veronica slipped beneath the water - immediately getting swept up by the unpredictable current. Panic began to rise in her throat as she succumbed entirely to the mercy of the water. Before she could even attempt to resurface, there was the drop. The _meager ten-foot drop_ that her friends eagerly lept into as children dragged her further beneath the surface, only aided by the anchor of a backpack fastened to her body. She continued to flail and to sink until Veronica realized she’d fallen beneath the rapids - and everything was still. 

The cold water had stolen the heat from her body, her muscles had gone all but limp and she couldn’t tell the difference between having her eyes open or closed. But there was a comfort in it. In being able to quit. _This isn’t the worst place to die,_ Veronica considered, knowing that between her prom dress, the backpack, and the river itself she’d never break the surface. It wouldn’t be easy, but it might be quick. Maybe the hypothermia would quell the burning in her chest or anxiety of it all would cut her consciousness and she could drift along the bottom with debris and Uncle Bedford. _Death isn’t the worst thing in Riverdale,_ was her last thought before she went to inhale - knowing that as soon as the murky liquid entered her lungs, she was as good as dead.

X

Veronica had left. She’d walked away. And she had every right to. Archie certainly didn’t feel like he’d given her much of a reason to stay. The entire evening - maybe even their entire relationship - he’d said and done the wrong thing. He prided himself in his ability to read Veronica better than anyone else - but knowing what she was thinking never helped him know what to say. So he let her walk away - over and over again. He watched her leave because he couldn’t think of a single word to make her stay. 

But no matter how many times he replayed her most recent parting conversation in his head, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this time around it sounded like a final goodbye. Talk of legends and exchanged breaths - people didn’t just say that for an ordinary parting, did they? Maybe it was the phone call or his own ego convincing himself that she wouldn’t be saying such final words unless she knew something the rest of them didn’t, but Archie decided that he had to follow her that night. Because even if she’d boxed away his things and locked him out of her heart, he still needed to do this one thing right.

Archie pushed into the gym - now feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of his peers wasted and oblivious. It had taken him at least ten minutes to come to the conclusion that Veronica might be in trouble and he figured at that point it was probably best that he didn’t go alone. His head spun as he tried to locate Betty and Jughead - the ever-moving pair who blended in so easily in the crowd. Finally, he found them standing next to Cheryl at the voting station. They had empty ballots in their hands and it wasn’t entirely unreasonable to assume they’d only found themselves there after Cheryl dragged them over and she was now hovering to ensure their votes. She and Toni were running unopposed, which meant that Cheryl was not only gunning for royalty - she wanted to be the first couple in Riverdale history to win the vote _unanimously._ Just for the hell of it, Jughead almost wrote in his own name on the ballot. But it would’ve been too easy - and it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying as seeing her actually pull it off.

“We need to go.” Archie ran up to the trio breathlessly. He pulled the ballots out of their hands and half expected them to start walking out without further instruction. Instead, Betty and Jughead both cocked their heads at him as Cheryl crossed her arms over her chest.

“ _Archibald,”_ She started, ripping the ballots from his hands and returning them to her voters, “I’m sure whatever it is you need Starsky and Hutch for is important enough to warrant that total Hitchcock-psycho look on your face - but I can _promise_ you it is _not_ more important than _my moment._ So if you and your hero-complex hands could try to not steal away any more of my votes, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Archie could feel his temper rising up in his throat. Although he hadn't had the opportunity to properly explain the situation - a situation, mind you, that he’d built entirely out of lept conclusions and theory - he still expected his friends to understand that explanations weren’t required. Especially, given the track record of the town, let alone at a school dance in Riverdale. 

“But-” He tried before getting cut off by Cheryl narrowing her eyes - a simple yet effective expression she often pulled to get her way. Betty cast an apologetic look towards Archie, but they both knew that ultimately listening to Cheryl was the path of least resistance.

When the three of them were finished voting, Archie, Betty and Jughead moved out into the hallway to discuss Archie’s theory. While he wasn’t being particularly articulate, Archie managed to explain why he felt the three of them needed to go looking for Veronica in only a few fractured statements. He might have made a more comprehensive argument if he wasn’t constantly getting interrupted by Jughead’s perpetually rolling eyes. They weren’t exclusive to this conversation. In fact, it was an expression of his that Archie thought he’d gotten used to in the past week or so. After Jughead and Betty had smoothed things over, he and Archie had somewhat fallen back into step. They never got together or hung out alone anymore, but that was probably for the best. Their conversation topics were limited, to say the least. They wouldn’t talk about Betty, they couldn’t talk about themselves, and any time Archie so much as _thought_ about Veronica Jughead rolled his eyes so aggressively it was a miracle they were able to return to the front of his skull afterwards. It was like his own silent way of reminding Archie that _he_ was the one on the outside - that _his_ membership to the Veronica Lodge club had, well, _expired. ._

“C’mon Archie, you know what we found. You know that we have to be here when they announce prom royalty. I wouldn’t have put on this tux if we didn’t.” The corner of his mouth quirked up and he leaned his shoulder against the lockers. “We shouldn’t drop the case when we all know Veronica probably left because of something you said.”

“Jug-” Betty’s back straightened and she looked between the two boys. While his agitation could be seen in the way Archie’s cheeks began to flush, Jughead’s emotions were more easily read in the way his body began to tense and his hands hung by his sides.

“ _Damnit Jughead._ ” Archie slammed his first against a locker - causing all surrounding conversations to stop. Betty’s heart rate quickened as she watched two of the most important people in her life get caught up in their own pride.

“Maybe the crowns were a distraction to get her separated from us.” She offered, still working to balance her attention between the two of them. While she hadn’t expected a normal high school evening, mediating a heated conversation about Veronica Lodge was not on her prom bucket list, “We can pull up the last location of her phone and if it’s anywhere except the Pembrooke or Pop’s we can go after her.” 

“Fine.” They both agreed, looking away from each other. They never fought - not when Jughead joined the Serpents or after the first time Archie kissed Betty. Any form of disagreement between the two of them was uncharted territory, and neither one of them wanted to take the first step.

Betty pulled out her phone, shaking her head as she waited for the small dot that indicated Veronica’s last known location to register on the screen. _Come on,_ she silently urged the schools wifi to work at a greater speed. When the map finally loaded - her stomach dropped.

“What - where is she?” Jughead asked, leaning in to look at the screen over Betty’s shoulder. His face fell, “I guess we’re going to the river.”


	13. Chapter 13

The water was different at night than it was during the day. It looked darker - more unpredictable. In the safety of sunlight - the river was the playground of many of their childhood memories, where they lapped water out of each other’s palms to stay out for just a little while longer before retreating to the lemonade and blanket forts of Fred’s careful construction. But here, obscured by nightfall, it appeared as though someone had pulled the drain on Archie’s adolescence and replaced the playground with something much more daunting. The river had grown swollen with rain and melted snow, causing the surface to churn in on itself, concealing a series of mini vortexes that would trap anything that fell into them deep beneath the belly of the water. It was a cold and unforgiving place that bore no resemblance to his boyish dreams and more closely depicted his fully grown nightmares. 

“ _ Veronica!”  _ Archie shouted for what felt like the millionth time before hurling one of the larger stones into the water with a rather unsatisfying  _ thunk.  _ He, Jughead, and Betty had been combing through the area, screaming Veronica’s name until their throats had all but gone hoarse with it, with no luck. His desperation to find her was getting so high that he was beginning to hope he’d find her wrapped up in someone else’s arms, shamefully hiding out in the bushes, because that seemed like a better option than the other grimmer alternatives he was imagining. However, there was no sign of her - or anyone, for that matter - along the edge of the river, which was making any form of positivity increasingly more difficult. 

Betty ran over to Archie, her face pinched up in frustration. Only then did he realize that for several minutes now her and Jughead’s calls had gone silent. A part of him had assumed that they traveled further upstream without him and the sounds of their searching became diluted by the waterfall. He hadn’t even considered there was another reason his friends might have fallen silent.

“Archie  _ shut up.”  _ Betty hissed back at him, pulling at his arm until he was positioned behind a thin layer of trees with her and Jughead. Before he had the opportunity to raise any questions - such as,  _ what the hell are you doing?  _ Archie noticed their attention was drawn elsewhere. He followed their line of vision up the water to the crest line of the falls, a place he hadn’t even considered looking before. Backlit by a pair of dimming headlights were three figures – two of which were backing into the other.  _ Veronica.  _

Archie felt a grip of silent panic clamp around his neck as he registered what was unfolding before them - the phantom restraint on his vocal chords matching the physical one of Jughead’s arms holding him back. He knew that any sudden movements on any of their parts could result in fatal repercussions to any if not all of them, but Archie was fighting against more than just Jughead to keep himself tucked behind the trees. He was fighting himself, too. It was as though his mind had been pureed into a mental soup of conflicting instructions.  _ Stay, to help Veronica  _ or  _ Leave, to help Veronica.  _ In that split second of indecision the three of them watched as Veronica’s silhouette was swept underwater and fell out of sight. Archie’s throat released a mangled sound somewhere between a whisper and a scream, which prompted Betty to send her elbow into his side.  _ Shut up -  _ she silently pleaded again as they waited for the figures to walk away.

They stood overlooking the water for a few more moments, but when Veronica didn’t resurface, the pair turned and walked away. Jughead’s grip on Archie released and within seconds Archie was ridding himself of his suit jacket and tie - completely disregarding any and all statements being thrown his way by either Betty or Jughead. Their medley of warning pleas became nothing more than the backtrack to his movements as Archie relinquished his control over his own body. It felt as though he were reliving the day he broke through the ice for Cheryl - charging head-on into the situation and leaving reason behind on the stable ground. Without a breath of hesitation, Archie dove head first into the water.

As soon as he was fully submerged, water began to saturate every inch of his clothing and body – leaching away all of the heat from his skin. It penetrated as far as the soles of his shoes – making them no better than any other thin material as they grew soggy in the river. At its surface the water was rushing. Both sending powerful ambushes of water surging over Archie and using the same force to push him under, willing him into its formidable traps. The exposed flesh of his body tore as he was thrashed about the water, falling victim to the most recent layer of debris. Still, his arms flailed in an effort to send him deeper. Archie prayed that his fingertips might brush against her. That it might be so easy as to find her near the surface. After all, how long had it been since they’d seen her fall under? Three minutes? Ten? A few minutes ordinarily would not make the difference between life or death – he knew Veronica was more than capable of holding her breath. She would often dip beneath the glassy water of the swimming hole and rummage around the bottom for minutes at a time. But how long would she last if she wasn’t fighting? She didn’t know they were there – she had no reason to stop herself from taking one fatal breath in if it meant quickening the rate of what would be a slow and painful death underwater. Archie struggled to banish the thought from his mind, forcing himself instead to focus on his arms pushing himself deeper beneath the surface. The further down he swam the more lost his sense of direction - as up, down and every other turn became nothing but an endless abyss of water. Hope became no more than a memory as his lungs began to burn and his limbs had all but given up - and he wondered if he would end up killing himself in the process of trying to find her.

Practical thinking might have driven him to turn around and fill his chest with air before returning to the depths to search the same small area for Veronica. But he was determined to go further - Archie enlisted his final reserves of strength to will himself onward. He’d all but exhausted himself with the lack of oxygen and swimming against the current, when he felt it. A thin strip of fabric brushed against his arm. His heart all but stopped as his hands reached out to clasp around the material, pulling it up against him. The fabric slowly took the form of a person -  _ his  _ person, and he had to keep himself from gasping. The stillness in her body sent a rush of panic through him, filling him with a sudden deluge of adrenaline. Fueled by only that, Archie began working to bring both of them back up to the surface.

On the river banks, Jughead and Betty looked on anxiously as they watched in heavy anticipation for any indication that either of their friends might resurface, but the water continued to rage on with no sign of breaking. Betty held her phone out in a vain attempt the light might help direct them - like the world’s weakest lighthouse. But there was no one in sight to guide. Just a meaningless beam of light, enlightening nothing in the darkness.

Suddenly, a few feet upstream a loud crashing of water against stone could be heard, followed by a chorus of watery coughs. Betty and Jughead rushed over to the spot where they found Archie collapsed with his arm wrapped tightly around Veronica’s middle. He’d only managed to drag the two of them partly out of the water before his body had given out entirely, leaving it to his friends to pull them the rest of the way out. Archie moved to speak as Jughead’s arms looped beneath his, but his body was shaking so violently that his brain was incapable of forming a single coherent thought. There was only space for one word in his mind - one name.  _ Veronica.  _

Betty had taken it upon herself to pull Veronica fully onto the shore and had positioned herself straddled over her as her trembling fingers struggled to undo the locks that bound the backpack to Veronica’s body. Her composition was quickly unraveling at the sight of her best friend's unmoving body. 

“I-I can’t tell if she’s breathing.” Betty sputtered out - her lock picking skills rendered essentially useless against her emotions. “ _ I don’t think she’s breathing.”  _

Jughead’s head quickly flit between his two friends. He had laid his jacket over Archie in an half-hearted attempt to warm him, and other than physically hold him, there wasn’t much else that he could do.

“Go, Betty. Go warm up Archie.” He instructed, having to guide Betty off of Veronica with his hands and watch her crawl over to where her and Archie naturally fell into each other's arms. He didn’t focus on them - he couldn’t. Not when there were more important matters. He drew his knife out from his back pocket and clicked it open, sawing off the straps of the bag with more speed than accuracy. When the straps were removed and the bag was worked off of Veronica’s body, Jughead held his finger against her upper lip, checking for any sign of her breathing. Against the wind it was impossible to tell. Jughead tilted her head back and began to blow air into her mouth, working more off of what he’d seen in movies than any of his eighth grade CPR certification. 

“She’s dead, oh god, she’s dead.” Betty pressed her face into Archie’s shoulder as his own body went slack. Jughead and Veronica were a few meager steps away and yet the scene was still obscured by nightfall. Archie felt useless, not even able to fully observe what was happening, much less be of any physical use. He recalled the day at Pop’s - the first Black Hood attack and the day he swore to never be a coward again. It was the same feeling. Of seeing a loved one fade away with no idea how or power to stop it.

“This is our fault.” He spoke, his teeth chattering between his words. “If we hadn’t kissed we would still be together and then she wouldn’t have gone to the river without me.” 

“Hey _.”  _ Betty pulled back. The lines of tears on her cheeks looked like crystalline veins in the fractured moonlight and she felt herself have a momentary lapse in her hysteria from her almost natal instinct to tend to both her and Archie’s emotional wounds. Her grip tightened on his wrist, as though the physical intensity might help him take her words more seriously, “Our mistake is one we’re going to have to live with for the rest of our lives. We’re going to have to keep working to prove ourselves to Jughead and Veronica for a very long time and  _ that  _ is the consequence of our actions. But this? This is not on us. Veronica did not willingly walk into the river and she did  _ not  _ do this because of us. Okay?” 

Archie only managed a nod, his eyes already drifting elsewhere. Betty always assumed the role of positivity when the people around her took on the more pessimistic approach - a trait Archie only admired when he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. He couldn’t identify when - but sometime in the past four years he’d decided that the  _ glass-half-full  _ mindset had no place in Riverdale. Not with all of the criminal activity and the way their classmates were dropping like flies. Even now, with Veronica potentially dancing the line between life and death - he chose to find someone to blame, even if it was himself, rather than waste hope on something that wouldn’t happen.

Just then, Veronica’s chest lurched up and she curled in on herself, expelling river water out onto the rocks with vile reches. Relief rushed through Jughead’s system as he pulled Veronica into his chest - half-laughing and half-crying. When her coughing subdued, she remained still, in an almost corpse-like state. Jughead’s arms worked their way around her and he began to rock the two of them slowly, grateful for this small moment that was entitled to only them.

“You’re not allowed to do that. You’re never allowed to do that.” He said as he cradled her head between his hands, looking into her eyes. They were dim, as though someone had blown out the light behind them - but he didn’t care. They were alive and blinking. That’s what mattered. “Don’t you remember? No Serpent stands alone - you should’ve called me.” 

Veronica’s shoulders rose and fell in a half-hearted shrug, “I was never cut out for the leather life anyways.” She spoke coarsely, testing the rawness of her throat. She felt still - and heavy, and she wasn’t entirely certain that she wasn’t dead. In reality, she’d been unconscious under the water for a few moments at most - but for all she knew she’d lapped in the river and waking up drenched with Jughead’s face just inches away from her own before vomiting water was the beginning to her very unique experience in hell.

It wasn’t until Betty and Archie stumbled over that Veronica accepted the fact that she might actually be alive - that someone had pulled her out of the river. By the soggy state of him, she imagined it was Archie. She stayed silent as Betty drew her into a hug and Archie knelt off by the side, keeping his distance but never looking away. Betty’s euphoric ramblings eventually turned into a miniature lecture, which Veronica had expected, and appreciated since it meant she would have a bit longer to not speak and allow her body to catch up with her brain. Though technically she never died - it still felt as though she were coming back to life. And the hugs and the ramblings were all a bit over-stimulating.  _ Focus on someone that makes you feel safe -  _ she was reminded of her own words to Archie before the variety show, and how they might apply here. Her focus narrowed to Archie, and she slowly felt her breathing even.

“I think I want to go home.” Veronica interrupted her friend, her voice sounding as unstable as the arms she was attempting to prop herself up with.

“Right - of course.” Betty laughed, falling back into a seated position as a warm flush fell upon her cheeks. “We can just-”

“Archie, would you take me?” She sounded less brittle now, as she caught him off guard.

“Yeah - yeah of course.” Archie moved closer to her, although he still kept a fair amount of space between them. He was afraid that if he got too close she might shatter in front of him - like she could disappear as easily as sand so carelessly tossed into the air.

Jughead helped her to her feet and Betty helped her out of her dress with promises to hang it up and bring it over the next day - and for whatever reason, she felt less vulnerable. Like standing outside in nothing but a strapless bra and her spandex was somehow less promiscuous and expository than her carefully picked gown. Maybe it was just the company. 

Archie led Veronica around to where her car was parked back at the top of the falls. The events at the start of the hour felt like traumas from years ago - but standing in the spot where it all began made the emotional lesion feel fresh and raw. Veronica had to close her eyes to keep the bile from rising up in her throat - reliving the moment she lost control and got swept up by the water. When she opened her eyes again she was able to take in the state of their appearances for the first time, their damaged bodies illuminated by her still-shining headlights. Archies had shallow lacerations running the lengths of his arms in such thorny patterns the red lines nearly resembled the woods. His hair was wet and tousled - similar to when he got out of the shower. But it looked darker somehow. As for Veronica, she had similar cuts etching patterns across her body and her skin had paled slightly. Her hair was slick against her body and she felt far from the glamorous girl who’d left him speechless earlier in the evening. Veronica considered what her parents might say when she walked in looking like a different person than who she left as - and then she realized home wasn’t much of an option for her tonight at all.

“Can I stay with you?” Veronica asked as he opened the passenger side door for her. His body tensed at the question. He didn’t want to risk doing any more damage to her than he’d already done - but he always did have such a weak constitution when it came to Veronica.

“Yeah, of course.” He said again, and she wondered if those were the only words she might ever hear from him.

x

Archie unraveled his sleeping bag on the floor, feeling reminiscent of their first night together after Jughead’s birthday party. How innocent they all were back then - when the world’s problems were confined to parental rifts and variety shows.  _ I’m messed up, Veronica  _ he’d confided in her,  _ We all are, Archie - and, honestly, you less than most.  _ Would their conversation ring the same if they had it now? Probably not, he supposed. She’d probably tell him they were all messed up - him most of all. 

When Veronica returned from the bathroom she was dressed in one of Archie’s old grey t-shirts, her hair still wet from the shower. It was an odd request - he’d reckoned - when she asked if she could step into the shower before bed. They were both still soaked from the river, and he didn’t see any purpose in adding more water into the mix. But he also didn’t think it was entirely unreasonable of her to want to wash away every last bit of the evening. 

“Sorry I-” She looked down at her attire and he realized he must have been starring, “I know where you keep them. I should have asked.”

“No - it’s great. I mean - you look-” Archie stood up, trying to shove his hands into pockets that weren’t there, “The bed’s yours. I’ve got a nice set up on the floor here so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Veronica’s head dipped down and she silently moved into the bed, pulling the sheets over herself like a reflex, and there was an odd comfort in how it almost felt as though the years of wearing had made her side of the mattress perfectly cup around her body. She didn’t feel trapped - like she imagined she might have - swathed in blankets. No - because this was not the dark and chilly depths of Sweetwater River. This was warmth, this was light - this was Archie. With time, she slowly felt herself accepting sleep. Accepting the fact that she had nothing to fear in this room. 

Sleep did not come so easily for Archie. He laid with his hands folded on his chest, eyes locked on the ceiling. Thoughts racing in his mind.  _ Do you ever wonder what if you’d done things differently? What if you had made different choices?  _ He’d asked her that night, three years ago under different circumstances. He had no idea how much weight those words would carry now.  _ For me it was never a choice,  _ Veronica had told him years after their first night, when dropping off his belongings. Possessions which remained in the box she brought them in - for to unpack them would require Archie to admit that they were over. Whatever “they” were, anyways. He wasn’t sure anymore. Friends, lovers, high school sweethearts -  _ legends? _

_ Transcending time, reason, languages.  _

He hadn’t given up on her - on them. But he did choose to become complicit in their stagnation. To accept civility because he figured having Veronica in his life in any capacity was better than to not have her at all. Better, yes. Or maybe just easier.

_ Nothing worth it is ever easy. _

Archie sat up, half-tempted to go for a run to help clear his head, but he didn’t want Veronica to wake up alone. He turned to face where she lay, somewhere on the brink of sleep. Her features looked softer now than they did on the drive over and he wondered the last time he saw her like that. Subdued in a way that didn’t imply a void of emotion - in a way that implied peace. He couldn’t remember. Had it really been that long since they were just _ kids?  _ Not junior detectives, vigilante’s, or business moguls. Just a boy torn between football and music, and a girl trying to escape her past. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Veronica hummed, sleepily propping her head up against her arm. Archie let out a low chuckle before returning to his solemn expression. 

“I thought you died tonight.” His words aired out and settled into the space, shifting the dynamic between them. Veronica felt a twisting in her chest as she realized the true weight of his statement - because of how often Archie Andrews’ had been put in the position of losing someone without being able to say goodbye. Of all the times he’d seen life slip right between his fingers. It was foolish - but she’d thought he might’ve been used to it. As though someone could be desensitised to the immeasurable grief. 

“I’m here.” Her hand extended out as she lowered herself to the ground beside him. Their fingers interlaced together and Archie held onto her as though he feared she might slip away in front of him all over again. 

They sat in silence for a while, clinging to each other and their own thoughts. A thin line of tears began to brim along the edge of Veronica’s lashes, appearing one small shudder away from completely spilling over and she could feel Archie’s body grow tense beside her, always so naturally in a state of fight or flight.

“Does something hurt?” He asked when he peered back over to her, immediately beginning to thumb away her tears. And she thought  _ yes.  _ Yes, it hurts  _ so much.  _ And it wasn’t the bruising of her ribs or how it was harder to breathe now. It hurt to hate him, to miss him, to pretend to move on.

“I don’t know who I am, Archie.” She hiccuped, her tears falling faster than Archie could catch them.

“You-” He started, repositioning himself to have his shoulders squared towards her. “You are Veronica Lodge. You are the most imprudent, most guarded, most obnoxiously stubborn person I know.” 

_ What if you had made different choices? _

_ For me it was never a choice _

“And you - you  _ make  _ me love you. It’s not a choice. It never has been. It was never you or Betty. It’s not easy loving you - it would be easier not to. Except I’ve tried not loving you and it doesn’t work - in fact, I think it’s stupid. Because love - real love - isn’t something you can just turn off because you think that’s what you’re supposed to do. Because that’s what would be  _ easier  _ to do. Everything that’s great you have to fight for - right? That’s what you said -  _ nothing worth it is ever easy _ . You’re worth it.  _ We’re  _ worth it. And I want to fight for us. Veronica, you may not know who you are, I’m not so sure about myself either. But you know me. And I know you. And if you let us, we can figure ourselves out together.” 

Veronica's eyes traced around his features before settling on his lips. They were slightly parted and slowly dragging in air and she felt the urge to lean into him and comfort him, but also herself. So she did. In an instant her lips were pressed against his - his body loosening against hers as he drew her in deeper. Archie’s hands worked their way around her body - feeling each crevasse and line that he had been deprived of - while Veronica maneuvered to straddle herself over his hips. 

“I’m sorry.” She spoke in the brief space between their kisses, drawing him in closer after the apology. She didn’t want to hear him say it back. He’d said his apologies countless times already, and she’d pushed him away. She pushed him away and then blamed him for letting go. But neither of them were letting go anymore - they were holding onto each other as tightly as they could because every moment they spent apart was further evidence that they belonged together. 

“I love you.” Veronica exhaled as Archie’s lips teased the space between her neck and her jawline. Every nerve in her body had awakened at his touch - igniting her senses with a fiery and deafening roar. She couldn’t quite make out his response between the static filling her ears - but she knew what it was. She could taste those three little words on his lips. 

It was then that she realized that kissing Archie felt like coming back to life. Like every moment they were apart she was inhaling everything -  _ anything  _ \- to stay alive. Carbon, Nitrogen, Fluorine - but nothing,  _ no one  _ was like Archie. Archie was Oxygen. 

And he was right. Loving each other wasn’t a choice. It was as optional as breathing.


	14. Chapter 14

Archie pulled Veronica closer to him - finding comfort in the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Ever since prom night he hadn’t had a continuous night of sleep - always waking to ensure her breathing hadn’t stopped. At first, he fought to fall back asleep, but after several nights of this he learned to adjust to his sleeplessness. Sometimes he’d get up and strum the guitar for a bit, go for a run, or just watch her sleep. It felt a bit like the second half of sophomore year all over again, but somehow it was more tense. Like outrunning the Black Hood was more jovial than outrunning death.

“Mm, good morning lover.” Veronica shifted, greeting Archie with a soft kiss. She smelt of her lemongrass shampoo and sleep - which was a bit of an aphrodisiac for him. Although, most things involving Veronica were. Especially since they got back together. 

“Hey.” He dipped in, brushing his lips against hers, just long enough so that he could inhale her breath, feel the warmth against his skin. She ran her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck before pulling him back down so that their lips met again. He was gentle where there used to be a ruggedness, and she was subdued in ways she used to be fierce. The town had taken bits and pieces of them over time - but each moment they spent back in each other's arms they were learning to fill each other up and make themselves whole again. 

“What do you say we get out of here for the weekend? Just you, me, and a bottle of merlot.” 

“Someplace dry - no water.” He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his voice becoming muffled at the end of his sentence.

“Yuma? Maybe?” She laughed, “Or is Albuquerque more your speed?” 

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around her middle and rotating so that she was laying on top of him. Her laughter slowly faded and he thought they might stay like that the entire day, with her safe in his arms. A passive fantasy of his that was never fulfilled. As always, Veronica eventually got up, dragging Archie out of bed with her, and the pair made their way downstairs into the kitchen. 

The house was quiet outside of the two of them. Mary and Brooke had snuck away to the city for some inelcutable case. They were both audibly apologetic about having to leave during one of Archie’s last weeks of high school - but their faces revealed that they were well aware that he and Veronica might like some time home alone together. During which Archie and Veronica had slipped into a routine of sorts - hazy mornings filled with coffee-flavored kisses and honey on toast. Veronica might’ve thought it a dreamy experience, if it weren’t for the purple bags sinking beneath Archie’s eyes or the way he stood in such a rigid manner it was almost like he half expected to have to dive into the river for her all over again at a moment's notice.

Archie was moving their breakfast plates into the sink when three swift knocks were delivered followed by the obligatory  _ Hey Arch, it’s us,  _ from Jughead. With the not-so-subtle guidance of Betty and Veronica, the two were slowly learning to re-attempt their previous friendship. But trust was a difficult thing to gain and an easy thing to lose in both of their eyes, and for what wasn’t the first time, it was their similarities driving the wedge between them rather than their differences.

“I’ll get it.” Veronica’s lips curled into a tight smile after Archie made no attempt to answer his friend. She gave him a warning glance before walking into the entryway with a welcoming grin, “Jughead. Betty. What’s going on?” 

Jughead and Betty politely brushed past Veronica, moving into the living room. They were both still in the clothes they’d worn to school the day before, though they looked more wrinkled, and the fraying hairs of Betty’s ponytail implied that they might not have gotten any sleep at all. Betty’s hands wrung themselves out continuously, as they so often did when her nerves got the better of her, and Veronica moved to lock their fingers together in an attempt to calm her down.

“Don’t stress, B. What is it?”

“We’re really sorry to bother you, it's just - we can’t get a break in this case.” Betty sputtered, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I thought it might help to get some new perspectives.”

Veronica wrinkled her nose, turning to Jughead for more information, although she already knew what it meant. Betty and Jughead had tried to take over the investigation completely after prom night, wanting to keep Veronica as separate from it all as much as possible. But they were two weeks out from graduation and getting increasingly desperate to close the case in the vain hope that they might actually enjoy a somewhat normal summer - especially after the semester-from-hell. So they were turning to Archie and Veronica for help - which was less than enthusing with their latest and only lead being Veronica’s would-be drowning.

Jughead lifted the backpack. It looked different now, in the sunlight, where she could clearly see the jagged cuts on the straps where he had cut the bag off of her body and the protruding lumps pulling at the fabric which implied that it was still filled with the rocks that had acted as an anchor for her that evening. Her body practically went limp at the sights of it, dropping Betty’s hands and staggering backwards into Archie, who had just joined them. As much as she reassured everyone that she was fine and that the water was a distant memory for her - she still found herself holding her breath in the shower. So an artifact from the actual event was more than enough to bloom the panic that had grown its roots in her chest. Archie’s hands instinctively ran up and down Veronica’s arms, until her breathing and her heart rate steadied to match his rhythm. 

It would be a difficult day for all of them. 

The four of them settled into a circle on the floor with the backpack placed in the middle. It was a position they often assumed to play board games or have late night conversations - it should have felt familiar. But it didn’t. They were all tethered together, in more ways than one, but there was a massive rift between Jughead and Archie that could be felt by everyone in the room. It was more than stiff bodies and snarky comments - it was two boys who needed a push, refusing to move. 

“The bag is our biggest lead right now - which isn’t much of a reassuring statement.” Betty explained, trying - more than anything - to work in spite of the rift, if not work through it. Over the past week she and Jughead had devoted every available moment they had to comb through every inch of material on the backpack, all the while Veronica contemplated the case from a distance. Contemplation that came mostly in the form of waking nightmares and wandering daydreams. Rather than looking into new leads like her detective counterparts, her subconscious did the work of dissecting the old ones. In fact, she actually had a few decent running theories.None, however, that she was fully committed to or open to sharing. So, when Betty unzipped the bag and dumped it’s contents on the floor, she was as lost as the rest of them staring at the pile of rocks.

Betty turned the backpack over in her hands, running the fabric through her fingers as though something new might appear. “It’s like they’ve left a neat little trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow up until the river… like they finally learned how to cover their asses.”

Archie reached out, taking the bag out of Betty’s hands. A part of him expected to feel something when he touched the material - a shiver or maybe even some panic. But it was just an ordinary, brandless backpack. There was nothing that said -  _ someone will drown in this. _

Conversation began to pick up as Betty and Jughead started airing out theories for Veronica and Archie to try on. Veronica absentmindedly nodded along as they passed the limp bag back and forth between each other. While she wanted to be a more vocal contributor in their discussion, her attention was more drawn down to the rocks, which had been so carelessly discarded out into the middle of their little circle. Without even thinking, she leaned forward and shifted the rocks around, picking each one up individually and examining it before setting it down in a separate pile. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for - or if she was even looking for anything at all. All she knew was that she had no intention of letting the backpack come into contact with her skin ever again, and fiddling with rocks was doing a fairly decent job at keeping anyone from looking at her, much less handing her the bag.

Between repeated theories and investigative dead ends, the only real indication that time was passing during their rather cyclical conversation was the shifting of Veronica’s rock piles as she divided them. Every once and a while at an off-hand moment one of her friends would peer over at her with a tilted head and a line between their brows, but still no one questioned her actions. After all, there was no definitive handbook on  _ how to handle your friend who almost drowned and then, a week later, just wants to look at rocks. _

“Feel free to pitch in anytime here, V.” Betty offered when Veronica was about halfway through the pile.

“Leave her alone this isn’t exactly a comfortable topic.” Archie straightened his spine, though everyone in the room knew that when it came to a power dynamic Betty outranked him. 

“Both of you be quiet.” Veronica instructed, holding one of the rocks from the outskirts of the pile closer to her face to confirm a theory, “Did you and Jug check these rocks?”

“They’re  _ rocks  _ Veronica…”

“They’re  _ breadcrumbs. _ ” Her hand lowered, and her eyes met three varying confused expressions. She sighed, “Have any of you ever done an escape room?” They all shook their heads.

“Each clue leads into the next - they’re all connected but they don’t overlap.” 

“You’ve lost us Lodge.” Jughead's focus lowered to the rock she was holding before flitting back up to her face. 

“They’re leaving clues like an escape room. The body left a compass which pointed up to the masks. The masks unlocked the room that led us to prom. The rock stuffed vixen was… me in the water.” 

“And that rock you’re so interested in?”

“How was the body found in the woods?” 

“Geocaching…” Betty answered tentatively.

“And what’s one great way to hide things while geocaching?” Veronica twisted the top of the rock and a small hiss of air released as the tight seal broke, revealing the simple stone an imposter - a lawn trick most people used to hide spare keys. Sitting in the hollowed interior of the rock - unironically, perhaps - was a painfully ordinary key with a string tied to the top of it. This was why there were already rocks in the bag when they’d tossed it at her that evening, or so Veronica imagined, because there was no way to guarantee she’d pick up the right ones.

Veronica held the key up by it’s string, watching it twirl and unravel in front of her. It was an odd thing, she thought, to leave behind for her friends to find. Especially since it was likely meant to be found on her blue and bloated body. She first attempted it on the bike locks from the backpack, when it didn’t fit any of those she returned the key to her palm, flipping it over to get a sense of its purpose. Eventually, she passed the key to Jughead who did the same before he handed it off to Betty, who merely cupped it in her hands.

“If they’re really leaving us clues… why a key? Don’t they know by now that I can pick a lock?” She thought out loud, her eyes closed as she felt the weight of the key. The corners of Jughead’s eyes crinkled up as he fought back a smile, always so inspired by the way Betty managed evidence as though she were waiting for divine guidance to shift her one way or the other.

Betty then mimicked Veronica’s earlier motion, holding the key up by the string, and waiting for it to settle. The four of them fell silent as they watched on, almost as if they were entranced by it’s pendulum-like motion. 

“It’s a plumb bob.” Archie spoke suddenly. The string slipped out from between Betty’s fingers and the key clattered against the wood flooring. 

“What?”

“A plumb bob.” He repeated, uninterested in doing the work of a search engine. He scooped the key up from the floor and resuspended it in front of his own face. “Where have we been that has wallpaper.” 

“Like… everywhere.” Veronica’s eyebrows drew together as she tried, and failed, to follow Archie’s thoughts.

“Where have we been that has  _ fresh  _ wallpaper.” He looked around at his friends who were all struggling to retrace their steps. Between prom night and finals, home renovation was easily the furthest thing from their minds. Unless it wasn’t a  _ home  _ they were looking for at all.

“The principal’s office…” Betty said slowly, recalling the turbulent day that she and Veronica had first gone to the riverside together - which had started with her and a peer discussing the stench of modified starch.

x

“Five minutes we were in that house and  _ Archie and Veronica  _ figured out what we’ve spent the entire  _ week  _ on?” Jughead rasped at Betty as she bent her bobby pin into a tension wrench to start picking the lock of the main office of the school. Archie and Veronica had positioned themselves out of hearing range, pressed up against the locker bay they frequented before school when they weren’t living together.

“We asked them for help for a reason, Jug.” 

“I thought we were supposed to be the detectives. It’s literally in our blood, look at Charles.”

Betty turned the lock, opening the door, “Say ‘our blood’ and mention our half brother in the same sentence again and I swear I’ll break up with you.” She pecked him on the cheek as she waved the other two over.

The office had been redecorated to be more welcoming for their new principal. Apparently, spray painted libels and etched-in graffiti didn’t accurately represent ‘the New Riverdale’ - as though a fresh coat of paint would cover the years of suffering seen within these weary walls.

Jughead cautiously pushed open the door to the principal’s office, which swung open freely. Any important files were being stored in the vice principal’s cabinet while they waited for the next unlucky individual to accept the position, so there was little to no reason to lock up a seemingly empty office. Either that, or, someone else had already unlocked the door for them. 

“This looks like something out of a dystopian novel.” Betty breathed, taking in the blankness of the room - an empty cream slate. 

“Start checking the walls for air bubbles or little pockets.” Jughead instructed, smoothing his hand over the wall closest to him.

The four of them spread around the small space with their hands pressed flat against the walls. Each corner of the wallpaper had been laid flawlessly - with no visible air bubbles or imperfections. Archie might’ve been impressed if it weren’t so disheartening. 

“Hold on,” Betty thumbed the bottom corner of the back wall, “There’s something in here.”

Jughead’s pocket knife sliced around the rectangular bubble - which was no larger than an inch. They all collectively held their breath as he peeled back the layer exposing sickly yellow paint and a small flash drive which fell out into the palm of his hand.

Wordlessly, Jughead moved over to the computer on the desk. Shaking the mouse and inputting the username and password for the Blue and Gold, thankful that all Riverdale computers ran on the same network. When he’d signed in, he plugged in the drive, with all four of them watching as a document popped open with two numbers stretching out to the millionth decimal point.

“Coordinates…” Archie aired from behind him. Jughead copied the numbers and pasted them into the search engine, pulling up a map. 

“He’s ready to face us.” He said as he watched the screen load.

“Who?”

“Mr. Honey. Think about it - what better way to throw us off of his scent than to make a copy-cat video where he clearly exposes himself in it? Only a genius can make himself look like an ameatur. Only question is  _ why?  _ Why expose himself like this? Why the tapes? Why the mystery?”

Betty leaned over his shoulder, looking at the screen. The coordinates would be taking them to an area an hour out from Stonewall Prep called the Honey Woods. A brief Wikipedia snippet beneath the name told them it was errignly named for its ample hornet population. 

“I’m guessing he’s ready for us to find out.”

x

Like every other mystery they’d solved, everything seemed to be unraveling in a matter of hours - and the group had no intention of stopping their small series of success, or luck, with their new leads. Rather than waiting to drive out the next day, they all filed into the car and prepared for the trip out into Honey Woods. 

They were more relaxed than they had been previously - even though they anticipated that they would be meeting their ex-principal/town voyeur/potential murderer at the end of the journey. The girls had practically maxed out the old vehicles stereo and were enjoying the many CDs of 80s hits that they discovered in the glove compartment when they found the end of the road. The car sputtered to a stop and Jughead turned off the engine. 

Using a compass on Archie’s phone, the four of them stepped out of the car and took to the woods. For the next half hour they wandered almost-aimlessly looking for their destination. But as they neared the coordinates location - Betty wasn’t sure if she  _ smelt  _ or  _ heard  _ what they were looking for first.

“What the hell?” Jughead gasped, covering his nose as he approached the bloated body dumped recklessly on the ground. Mutilated and stung to death with the hornets who’d done it still buzzing near the corpse - was Mr. Honey. And they were all certain it was truly him this time.

Betty turned away from the sight - doing all she could not to vomit as she dialed the local sheriff’s department. 

“Hello - this is Betty Cooper we’ve found a body in the Honey Woods.” She spoke into her phone, glancing back to the side to see Veronica peeling back the blood soaked blazer to rummage in his pockets. Yes, she thought, somewhere in the last few months her opulent best friend had turned into something of an investigative talent herself. But she hadn’t yet honed the attention to sensory detail that Betty had - so she didn’t hear the shuffle of leaves a few feet away. Betty’s phone dropped to the ground as she ran forward, “ _ Veronica get back!” _

Veronica stumbled backwards, startled, when two people adorned in the Stonewall rabbit masks began advancing towards the group. Archie reached forward, pulling Veronica behind him.

“What gives? Who are you?” Jughead shouted at them as they continued walking forward, hands equipped with cans of spray.

“Finish the story, Forsythe.” They said, covering their noses and mouths with the crook of their elbows before spraying towards them. They repeated the statement as the world turned fuzzy and black.

x

When Jughead began to come-to the first thing he felt was the cold stone ground beneath him. His head was throbbing and he couldn’t make much out of his hazy surroundings. There was subtle movement around him, as though others were stirring with the same effects, and he struggled to sit up properly. After propping himself up against a wall he was able to see that, yes, he, Archie, Betty, and Veronica had been thrown into the same stone box of a room outside of the Stonewall stables. In place of the water-born coffin setup he and Betty had seen last time, there was an old TV with a VHS player on top followed by a stack of four tapes. The floor was damp from a hose in the corner of the room spouting water.

“What happened?” He asked, cradling his head in his hands. 

“I think they sprayed some kind of alkyl nitrite at us, brought us out here-” Betty started, retying her ponytail, before Archie cut her off with a heavy sigh.

“In English please, Betty.” He moaned, helping Veronica into a seated position.

“The cans they were holding, I think they had a drug that either blacked us out or relaxed our muscles so that they could knock us out.” 

“Why?”

Her hand slowly raised, pointed towards the tapes in the middle of the room, “To watch those.” She paused, her vision just starting to fully refocus. Betty shook her head, turning to her right where Veronica looked lost in the distance. “Unless you know how to get out of here, V.”

Veronica shook her head, unable to pull her attention away from the small but steady stream of water in the corner, “All of these clues led us into the real escape room… and if we don’t get out?” 

They all stopped to follow her gaze -  _ We drown.  _

Still working to regain their strength, Betty and Jughead crawled to the center of the room. Betty lifted her head to note the cameras and speakers in opposite corners of the room, and she rested her temple on the glass of the television screen. 

“I don’t get it - I was so sure it was Mr. Honey.” Jughead mumbled, pulling down the tapes and inserting the first one into the VHS player.

The four of them crowded around the screen and watched for several hours as their lives for the past months flickered before them. The first tape depicted several shots of them finding tapes outside of their homes, followed by them investigating John Doe’s body in the woods, and Betty and Veronica collecting the masks. The second was a more uncomfortable viewing - showing the four of them finding the fox, Betty and Jughead walking into their current stone prison, and Veronica at the river. The third tape displayed them outside of the school earlier that morning as well as them briefly in the Honey Woods and the final tape showed the outside of the stone room, with several hoses hidden in the nooks and crannies of the walls and the words ‘Finish the story, Forsythe” painted on the uneven stones.

Jughead shoved the television when the final tape finished, the thick device wobbling for a second before resettling as though it were never disturbed. Water had pooled up to their ankles at this point, and the constant sound of running water was not the ambient background noise he might have hoped it would have been in this situation.

“There aren’t any clues. Just tapes of all of the things we did to get stuck in here.” Betty leaned her head backwards, her eyes pressed tightly shut as she began to piece everything together. Finally, her head shot upright, “We’re doing it backwards.”

“What?” Archie slouched against the wall.

“We’re doing it backwards.” She repeated, ejecting the last tape before holding the stack in her hands, “Normally you get the story, get locked in the room and use the clues to escape it. Right?” She looked to Veronica for confirmation and she nodded, anxiously waiting for Betty to continue.

“We’ve used all the clues, but we didn’t escape, we got in it. The only way out is to finish the story. We have to figure out who’s doing this.” Betty turned the tapes on their sides, reading the titles carefully written on the sides. Open the  _ Tomb,  _ Where  _ the  _ Water Flows, Keys  _ To  _ Locks, and Find the  _ Answers.  _ They sounded like random words thrown together, and Betty felt ill equipped to attempt to unscramble them. She passed the tapes over to Archie who shuffled through the stack. 

“This is gibberish, it doesn’t even make any sense.” He said, tilting his head to the side. 

“Unless it’s not.” Jughead stole the tapes from Archie’s hands, “Look at the order -  _ Find the Answers  _ is beneath  _ Keys to Locks.  _ Why would they do that unless these tapes are the key to unlocking the door?” 

“They wouldn’t,” Betty rallied off of Jughead’s idea, “ _ Where the Water Flows…” _

“The key is where the water is!” He finished her thought and the two beamed triumphantly, wading their way over to the corner of the room with the active hose. Veronica had to close her eyes to keep from total hysteria as the water levels rose and Archie whispered what was happening in her ear. She didn’t like feeling useless - especially after she’d spent the last week convincing herself that she wasn’t afraid of a simple memory. But here, with the threat of a repeat of the evening pooling at her feet, her fear felt as fresh and new as it had the night it had happened.

“They’re looking, but I don’t think they’ve found anything - not yet, at least.” Archie tried, doing his best to sound more optimistic than he felt. “They’re testing different stones - maybe I should go over there to help.”

“Don’t bother.” Jughead shouted, kicking up water, “There’s nothing over here. It’s a dead end.”

“Do you think there’s something in the videos? A clue in the clips with water?”

“Betty, we could rewatch every hour in those tapes and still find nothing and by the time we were finished the water would be at our hips.”

They were stuck, with the same helpless feeling that drove them over to Archie and Veronica that morning in the first place. The only difference was that this time, like so many others, their lives were on the line. But Betty wasn’t ready to give up - not just yet. Riverdale may have stripped her of optimism but her perseverance remained intact. She re-stacked the tapes in their original position and more closely examined them. Open the  _ Tomb,  _ Where  _ the  _ Water Flows, Keys  _ To  _ Locks, and Find the  _ Answers -  _ they were too obscure to not mean anything. She read and re-read the titles in her head over and over again until it hit her.

_ We’re doing it backwards. _

Find the  _ Answers,  _ Keys  _ To  _ Locks, Where  _ the  _ Water Flows, Open the  _ Tomb.  _

“ _ Answers to the tomb.”  _ She thought aloud. 

“What?”

“Look, Jug, these words are written in a slightly different font. And if you read them all backwards-”

“Answers to the tomb.” He repeated, “What does it mean?”

Betty said the phrase a few more times, over and over again. Testing it out - feeling every letter and vowel in the hope that they might unravel and give her the answers if she repeated them enough. 

“Homeowner? Hamsters? Aethers?” She ventured.

“What are you doing?” Veronica gulped, asking more as a distraction than anything.

“Oh my god-” Jughead gasped, “You think it’s an anagram. What kind of Harry Potter bullshit?”

After he spoke the water began pouring in from two new locations, rapidly increasing the level. It had surpassed Jughead’s knees by the time he and Betty had finally began narrowing down letter combinations to a name. 

“Bret Weston Thomas.” Betty relented after they’d tried what felt like every other available option, “It’s the only one that makes any sense.”

Jughead shook his head, “His last name is Wallis.”

The water level rose more quickly now, sending Veronica into a fully fledged panic attack. Her thoughts began accelerating in her head, and she desperately wanted them to slow down so she could breathe but they wouldn't. Her breaths came in gasps and she felt like she might pass out. “We figured out your riddle, let us go!” She screamed, and they all turned to face her.

Both of the speakers turned on, and the sound was similar to someone turning on the transmitter of a walkie-talkie.

“Forsythe.” A voice cracked through the device, “I took some inspiration from your memoir. Writing what you saw in your own town - it’s resourceful. But, some of us aren’t as fortunate to live in crime-ridden Riverdale. So I took the mystery into my own hands. If you were clever you might have noticed how I concocted my alias from the name of our great institution. Ever consider how Weston Wallis contains the word Stonewall within it? Thank you - Forsythe. Truly for helping me finish my story. You’ll live at the end of the fiction. Reality, you’ll find, to be a lot less forgiving.” The line cut out.

“You’ve got to be  _ kidding me!”  _ Archie threw his fist into one of the walls, which didn’t do much of anything except split the skin on his knuckles open. It was useless. This wasn’t the day he wanted - he wanted slow mornings, walks around the town, and dinner around the fire pit. He didn’t want to - once again - be put in a baleful situation with Veronica, that he had no power or control over. 

“Archie -  _ Archie.”  _ Veronica held his hands steady. She hadn’t been much use since they were locked into the room - but she knew she could at least do this, “I think it’s over.” 

“No. No it’s not.” He said, looking around the room. It was small and the four of them had already combed through it - but surely they’d missed something, “This room was built for people like Hiram Lodge to host secret meetings. It has to have a secret door or- or a switch?”

Veronica only shook her head in response. The water was at her chest and there was no sign of it stopping. Jughead, it would seem, was even less inclined to give up than his red-headed counterpart. He refused to accept this as the end and - even more so - refused to let Bret win. Not like this. He ducked beneath the water, holding his breath as he rummaged for any sign of a loose stone or bad craftsmanship that he could exploit to, at the very least, create a drain and earn them some time. After his initial few dives, Archie caught on and joined him beneath the surface, leaving Betty and Veronica to console each other. 

“ _ Answers to the tomb _ .” Betty muttered beneath her breath like an automated loop as she stroked Veronica’s back. The sentence stuck with her - like a lead she wasn’t meant to find. 

“There’s one rock that we can move around a bit but it’s not going anywhere.” Archie said as he shook out his hair, wading over to them with Jughead closely behind.

“How long has she been saying that?” Jughead asked Veronica when he heard Betty exhausting the phrase. 

“This isn’t a tomb, this is above ground. The walls are stone and mortar joints can leak.” Betty responded before Veronica could answer.

“What are you saying?”

“We have to wait out the water. We have to wait for the structure to give in.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

Dread began to twist in Veronica’s gut, “Then… this is going to hurt like hell.” She spoke, her voice thick with fear.

Waiting was the worst part. Jughead had never considered himself much of a patient person, so it was difficult to stand around and watch as the water rose above Veronica’s head, and then Betty’s, and then approached his own until eventually all four of them were treading. He could see subtle curvature in the walls, as though they were beginning to give, but the structure gave no other indication that it was going to implode. After all  _ this room was built for people like Hiram Lodge to host secret meetings -  _ it wasn’t going to lose its structural integrity so easily. The one thing he could do to keep from going insane from the waiting, was fantasize about the many new and creative ways he might murder Bret. He was pretentious enough to make him borderline homicidal  _ before  _ he’d tormented and nearly killed all of his friends - and now? Jughead hadn’t just crossed the border - he had a full citizenship. 

Betty couldn’t cling to much - except maybe hope. She was supposed to be the optimistic one - or at least, that’s who she used to be. Three long years ago. Maybe Riverdale had extinguished that part of her, too. Maybe it was her father - or maybe it was never even there. Perhaps she’d only been feigning positivity, to make up for a darkness in her she might not ever get the chance to explore. It was foolish, perhaps, but as Betty began to fear the worst, she wished she would have had the chance to further dissect her darkness. See if it was some genetic disposition or a curse on the Cooper women. After all, her father may have been the serial killer but it was only her mother’s genes that linked her, Polly’s, and Charles’ more ire constitutions. 

There wasn’t much room for contemplative thinking for either Archie or Veronica as they clung together. Veronica had been treading the longest - and as such she was losing her stamina the fastest. Archie did his best to help keep her afloat, but they desperately needed the walls to break - and fast.

Although the process of waiting had felt eternal, the actual deconstruction of the room was rather rapid - shattering all at once. The walls crumpled first, releasing the ceiling and allowing every rogue brick and rush of water to hail at them from every direction as the room burst. Each fragment that smacked into them was a welcome pain, though, because it meant they weren’t drowning, and that had worked. That they didn’t just go through hell for nothing. 

Before any of them could even process that they had finally been freed from their ‘tomb’, Jughead rose to his feet. He happily ignored the pain in his head and wiped his hands off on his soggy jeans, turning back to his crumpled group of friends.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He said, looking past them now to the thin silhouette of his old campus that he could just make out over the trees.


	15. Chapter 15

For the second time this week, Veronica Lodge found herself soaked and escaping mortality for the entertainment of a  _ prep school boy.  _ At one point in her life, she might’ve considered herself rather adept when it came to the privileged type like Bret - having grown up surrounded almost exclusively by heirs and heiresses. However, she was now reminiscing the ways of Manhattan socialites and mobsters - where the worst thing someone could do to you was order a hit.

Dark bruises had already begun to flower, decorating the left side of Veronica’s body with a tender garden. Her head felt a bit foggy and she clutched the damp ground in front of her, willing the contents of her stomach to keep from rising. She could hear someone else sloshing about the muddy area, muttering curse words underneath their breath.  _ Jughead,  _ she thought to herself, as she fought to stand in spite of the pain. Any injury she’d sustained in the collapse, was not nearly strong enough to keep her from going to find Bret, and toss him into the river herself.

“Where do you think you’re going, Lodge?” Jughead asked, turning over to see Veronica’s liquid limbs struggle to support her steps. His back had been badly beaten by the debris, and he could tell from the warm and sticky feeling beneath his shirt that he’d been cut by something. But he, too, was making his way towards the forest. 

“Bret’s room - same as you.” Without ever moving to look at him, Veronica could tell that Jughead had rolled his eyes.

“You two aren’t the only ones who want to get back at Bret, you know.” Betty spat from where she rolled on the ground. By the looks of it, her body had taken the brunt of the destruction. The hair on the right side of her face was tinted a more Blossom shade as blood pooled around a small gash, and her own array of bruises shone prominently against her pale skin. 

“You need to stay here, Betty. Trust me.” Jughead tried, knowing full well that his words hardly ever worked to stop her. Instinctively, he turned to Archie for support, but he was having little to no luck keeping his breakfast down as he threw up a few feet away.

“I don’t need protection, need I remind you my father-”

“Was the black hood, I know. But that doesn’t make you invincible.” He finished, extending his hand to help her stand. She pushed it aside, pulling herself up with a wince.

“I’m no more fragile than you are.” 

Jughead huffed. Getting either of the girls to back down was not going to happen, and any time spent trying to convince themselves otherwise was simply time Bret could’ve been using to get away. Defeated, he helped Archie to his feet.

Each step back towards the campus felt a little more solid than the last, but by the time they reached the stone steps of the building they were all still feeling a little bit defeated. Betty had accepted Veronica’s help, and threw her arm over her shoulders, using her as a pair of make-shift crutches. 

Jughead had taken to the front of the group once they got inside, leading them around the familiar hallways. When he was first touring the campus, each old painting and tapestry seemed to enhance the prestige of the institution - but now the acrylic eyes simply mocked him. Reminding him of what the students here had done, and what the administration allowed. 

He moved cautiously, noting the way each door had been left thrown open. Bret was often a meticulous individual, and he struggled to imagine him so satisfied with his assumed victory over their lives that he would leave typically-locked dormitory doors so carelessly ajar. Had the cause for celebration been that critical?

The group slowed as they made their way down the final narrow hallway. Each dorm door was closed, likely hiding away students who were doing nothing but studying for the next week's exams the entire weekend. Jughead’s door dec still hung on the door beside Bret’s - who likely left it up to keep any eager underclassmen from trying to switch into his room. Archie and Jughead shared a single knowing look, before stepping back and simultaneously slamming their shoulders against the door.

The door swung open with a  _ crack,  _ banging against the wall as the four of them filled the room. Betty let out a small yelp as she took in the room, feeling Jughead’s body stiffen beside her. They hadn’t just found Bret.

They found his body.

_ Check, three.  _ Veronica thought, keeping a mental tally of the death toll this investigation had taken. Bret was laying on the floor, a gun in his hand and his blood splattered against the beds that were once home to Jughead and Moose. A clear suicide, Betty might’ve thought, if it weren’t for the two people clinking glasses over his corpse. 

“What’s going on here?” Veronica pushed past Archie, who had stepped in front of her almost immediately after they walked in - obscuring her view of everything except Bret’s lifeless hand and the pool of congealed blood around his body. Their eyes met, and Veronica thought she might throw up.

Hermosa set her glass down cooly, sighing as she fixed her hair. She presented in her typical criminal-chic in a Salvatore Ferragamo feminine redingote.

“You don’t actually believe I’d walk you through the plan just because you couldn’t figure it out yourself, do you?” Her eyes narrowed into thin slits as she pushed herself off of the wall. In a single graceful sweep, she retrieved the gun they’d placed in Bret’s hand and held it between her own gloved fingers. Behind her, still casually sipping from his glass, Jonathan watched on. “Really, I knew you weren’t bright, but monologuing? You expect too much, little sister.” 

Archie took a step forward, freezing immediately after Hermosa cocked the gun and pointed it towards Veronica, “Ah ah, I’d calm down if I were you, handsome.” She purred, advancing until she had the barrel pressed into Veronica’s chest, “So much as inhale too sharply for my liking and I’ll  _ happily  _ put .45 milimeters of lead in your little Ronnie’s heart.”

No one moved - no one dared. Jughead’s mind raced for some sort of a solution - a plan - to get them out of this. But he didn’t even know why Jonathan and Hermosa were targeting them - so how could he possibly know how to evade them? 

Escaping was a distant thought in Veronica’s mind. For her, the world had slipped away until there was nothing but her and her sister. Even the cool touch of the gun on her chest felt absent as the only thing she saw was Hermosa’s growing agitation at her lack of a reaction. Though, she should’ve expected this much. Veronica’s time as Hiram Lodge’s live-in daughter had taught her a thing or two about handling threats on her life. 

The two of them might’ve shared a father - but genetics were where their similarities ended. Hiram treated Veronica like a game, and Hermosa like a deductible charity case. Perhaps in a different world he treated them both like daughters. Veronica couldn’t keep herself from wondering - if he had, would they still fight like this? Or would their hate for each other start and end at stolen clothing and games of monopoly?

“Do it.” Veronica closed her eyes, lifting her hand to hold the barrel steady against her breathing, “But I want you to be the one to tell daddy that you’re the reason he gets to bury me next to the Black Hood.”

Hermosa nostrils flared and she momentarily looked over to where Veronica’s friends were standing readily in position. If she pulled the trigger there would be nothing keeping them in place. But still - it was so tempting. Especially given her competitive nature that it seemed only Veronica knew how to manipulate to get her upset.

Unsatisfied and not knowing when to quit, Veronica parted her lips, ready to keep pushing. To see how far either of them were actually willing to go. Hermosa’s attention snapped back to her little sister and reality came crashing in for the both of them with a  _ bang _ .

Veronica’s smirk fell from her face.

She heard the gun first, before she even noticed the blood - and she knew her chances of ever working towards a relationship with her sister were gone. The front of Veronica’s shirt became coated in the sangria shade of sticky, sweet blood.  _ Lodge blood,  _ she thought to herself, struggling to remain composed,  _ guess it isn’t blue afterall. _

Hermosa dropped to her knees, crumpling onto the ground. Pushing through Archie, Jughead and Betty was Charles and a small group of his team who quickly placed Jonathan in handcuffs, despite his attempt to jump out the window. 

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, placing his hands on Veronica’s shoulders. She could only manage a nod as she watched a pair of FBI agents carry her sister's bleeding body out of the room.

x

After a few standard questions and a quick medical examination, Charles handed off his car keys to Jughead and promised to be home in time for dinner the next day with a tape of the interview. The four of them silently filed into the vehicle, immediately slumping into the seats. No one was certain as to what happened or why - and they wouldn’t be getting any answers until after Charles came home with a tape of his interview with Jonathan - and that was only if he said anything.

“One thing I don’t get,” Veronica’s voice came out small and soft as she practically spoke into Archie’s shoulder. Their clothing was still damp from the stone room, but she didn’t mind. They’d always felt safe with each other, “is how Charles knew where we were… how did they get there in time?”

Jughead laughed, looking back at Archie and Veronica in the rearview mirror, “I called him from the phone in the stables while you three were still figuring out how to stand.” 

Archie nodded along, running his hand through Veronica’s hair to try and loosen the wet knots. 

No one said much of anything else after that. The long and quiet drive back home was a stark contrast from the singing adventure out to the Honey Woods they’d had that morning - but isn’t that what always happened in Riverdale? Good things never seemed to last. Except for maybe them - the four of them had stood the test of time, hadn’t they?

By the time Jughead pulled up into the driveway, they all knew they wouldn’t be spending this night alone. They couldn’t. There was always this hanging feeling when they closed a case - like it wasn’t finished yet. Even if they buried the bad guy or found the snuff film, nothing was final in the town with pep. So, rather than walking back next door for the evening the four of them filed into the Cooper household and made their way into their two separate bedrooms. 

Veronica and Betty locked the door behind them, because even though they knew that a metal bolt wouldn’t stop anyone in this town, on this night it helped them feel safer. What it couldn’t do was help them sleep. Rather than changing their clothes, the girls stripped down to their underwear and crawled beneath Betty’s pink covers, where they lay silent and wide-eyed until the sun came back up in the morning.

In the other room, the boys hadn’t even considered attempting to sleep. They both changed into a dry set of clothing and propped themselves up against Jughead’s bed. There wasn’t much in the room, just a few bits and pieces from Jughead’s old childhood trailer, but the presence of their friendship could be felt in each item. The comforter where they made little forts for Jellybean to distract her after Gina came home, the shitty clay pot that Archie had made in ceramics in the shape of a hot dog after hearing FP chase after a dog with the same name, and the drumsticks from the summer they both decided to learn an instrument. There was so much of  _ them  _ in that room, that Archie couldn’t help but pay attention to how much he missed it.

“Thank you, by the way.” Archie said, breaking both the tension and the silence.

“For what?”

He began to pick at the skin around his fingers. He and Jughead constantly felt in debt to each other - either because of their families or some other circumstances. But that was mainly because they were always there for each other - which was something they needed. Especially now.

“For calling Charles. If you hadn’t - If Ronnie’d- I-” He stammered, his cheeks becoming flushed as he spoke. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jughead placed his hand on top of Archie’s, “I care about her too. Just not like - you know.” 

Archie chuckled, “Yeah, same with me and…”

“I know.” He leaned his head against the bed, letting out a long sigh. They’d never been good at intimate conversations, “Look, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pissed at you. For a while - but it takes two people to make that kind of mistake and if I can forgive Betty and Veronica can forgive you…”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Archie knew they were both dragging out the feud out of pride more than anything, and there wasn’t much left to discuss, “We can just do that bro thing, where we nod like douches and mutually suppress our emotions.”

The two of them stayed up a while longer, messing around on Jughead’s old game cube before falling asleep. By the time they woke up the next day, Charles had returned home and he was sitting at the dining room table with Betty and Veronica. Archie placed a soft kiss on Veronica’s forehead as he took his seat next to her, paying close attention to the cassette player Betty was fiddling with in her hands.

“Is that?” He asked as Jughead stole a slice of toast off of Betty’s plate. She nodded,

“The interview.”

“He told us everything - you kids can go ahead and take a listen.” Charles excused himself to a different room in the house. Leaving because he assumed it would a difficult time for them to finally understand why all of these things had happened over the past few months and, while he was getting closer with his siblings, it did seem like a more private matter.

They all leaned in as Betty clicked down on the play button, listening as the tape slowly whirred in the machine. After a few seconds, Charles’ voice played out of the speaker.  _ Did you always know you were going to be a murderer or did it start with some innocent voyeurism?  _ Archie thought back to the first tapes, how long ago that felt. What lifetimes they’d lived in between this master plan. 

Charles was telling the truth when he said Jonathan revealed everything - rather seamlessly, even. Almost as though he’d always wanted to get caught. 

_ It was just tapes - at first,  _ he’d started,  _ I thought the VHS’ would make Bret an ideal candidate for the FBI to investigate. _

_ Because of the sex tapes? _

_ Because of the sex tapes.  _ The reiteration hung for a moment. Lofted in the air and Betty could almost feel the smirk that must’ve been on his face. He was right - they’d never doubted Bret’s involvement with the tapes or any other aspect of the case. He’d found himself the perfect scapegoat.

_ Why target him? Why try to frame him?  _ Charles' voice crackled on the recording.

_ Because his entire family is full of frauds!  _ Jonathan’s voice raised at this point,  _ Using a fake name to act like a big shot in the school when his father wouldn’t even be able to afford the tuition if he hadn’t scammed my mother! _

_ So you go after Bret.  _

_ So I go after Bret. _

_ But why the other four? _

_ Jughead was the best writer in our class. And it wasn’t because he was worth a dime it was because he wrote from experience. When I got my hands on a copy of his scholarship essay, I decided it was my time to get that. _

_ So you made your own mystery. _

_ I made my own mystery.  _ Jughead rolled his eyes, already annoyed by Jonathan’s need for repetition.  _ The man in the woods? That was Bret’s father. I didn’t plan on dumping Mr. Honey until he came asking for more money. You buy a man out of town and he comes asking for more? No way.  _

_ And Hermosa - how did you two team up? _

_ She caught me with the tapes when she was investigating Donna. Said she wouldn’t spill if I helped her take care of her sister.  _ There was a rustling,  _ The redhead and the blonde were residual.  _

Betty stopped the tape after that. She didn’t care what else Jonathan had to say - he didn’t get a chance at redemption. His motive of family vengeance was too familiar to her - to all of Riverdale. To blood feuds and serial killers. She felt sick - the word  _ residual  _ rolled around on her tongue. As though there wasn’t enough unnecessary death in their town. The town he’d considered them lucky to be in.

“We were just characters in his story.” She thought out loud, sounding as nauseous as she felt. Jughead’s body had gone stiff beside her.

“Isn’t that what we are in mine?” He asked.

“No - Jug - no.” Veronica quickly straightened, lowering her chin and watching him carefully, “You wrote our experiences, you didn’t craft them yourself like some sick game master.” 

“She’s right,” Betty cooed beside him, slipping her hand in with his, “You’re nothing like him.” 

Jughead agreed, knowing they wouldn’t allow him not to. But it was a difficult thought to manage - had he not routinely exploited the traumatic events of their group for his work? The only original piece he’d written in the past three years was used as a real life murder plot and he very well might have used that experience alone to fuel his next project. The most original part of his life was Riverdale - and if he left it? If he moved to Iowa? Would he still be the writer he thought of himself as?

“You okay, Jug?” Archie kicked him underneath the table.

“Yeah…” He lied, working to change his train of thought. It wouldn’t do him any good to unpack this right now. And, besides, there was just a week until graduation. He shouldn’t spend his last few days of high school in an existential crisis.


	16. Chapter 16

“ _ Archie!”  _ Veronica squealed as they fell back into his bed, “We have to go! We’re supposed.... to meet... Cheryl... at Pop’s!” She said, her words broken as she paused to accept his small kisses. It was their graduation day, and they’d promised to meet her there an hour before their call time for the ceremony. She refused to tell them why the meeting was so important, only that all of them be there.

“Let’s be late.” He grazed his lips against her neck while his hands teased the side zipper on her dress. It was a Chiara Boni piece made from Italian stretch jersey - which not only clung to her curves but also - thankfully - was a wrinkle-free material. Meaning that the past few hours she spent curled up and around Archie made no physical difference in her appearance.

“ _ Ahem.”  _ Jughead cleared his throat, sending Veronica into a fit of laughter as Archie fell on top of her, defeated. He entered through the bedroom window, while Betty leaned against the doorframe. They both looked exactly as Veronica had expected them to - Jughead in a loose tie and Betty in a nicely pressed dress. She wondered if they’d all still be like this in a year - not necessarily the same people, but a group of people who knew each other this well. “We figured we’d ride together - for old times sake.” 

“That is, if you two are finished.” Betty giggled, meeting Jughead halfway across the room with a kiss of their own. 

“Get a room.” Archie said without looking up, his voice muffled between Veronica’s hair and his sheets.

“We have one,” Jughead extended his hand and helped Archie up, “But unlike you, we’d rather not handle the wrath of Cheryl Blossom.” 

Archie gave in, climbing off of Veronica and grabbing the keys to the jalopy as Veronica slid into her graduation gown. She was upset that she wouldn’t get to see Archie walking across the stage, but at least he would be there to cheer the rest of them on in the crowd. 

The four of them climbed into the jalopy, screaming the lyrics to old songs as Archie drove the short distance across town. In a few minutes, they were jumping right back out of the vehicle, still humming, kissing, and laughing. 

It was a humid day, as the first week of June often brought about the promise of a balmy but beautiful summer. The sky was clear and so close Veronica felt like she could climb up on Archie’s shoulders and bathe herself in the blue. She was almost disappointed to step into Pop’s and feel the rush of air conditioning send a chill down her spine.

At their regular booth, Cheryl perched herself on top of the seats as she waited for them. She adorned herself in a specially ordered red graduation gown - a decision, she’d decided, the school would simply have to deal with - and was pulling a cherry in and out of the whipped cream on her strawberry milkshake when they approached.

“Friends,” She beamed, her signature red lips stretching out into a smile, “I’m so glad you could all make it!”

“Cheryl…” Betty tentatively greeted her cousin as she, Veronica, and Archie slid into the booth. They’d lost Jughead up at the counter, where he was trying to convince Pop that his graduation was of  _ free birthday burger  _ magnitude _.  _ An argument that he wouldn’t win - though Pop would still likely let him off with a free meal. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to meet so close to our graduation.” She announced in the same manner she did all her other statements - like she’d scripted them ahead of time. The three of them exchanged a slightly agitated expression as they waited for Cheryl to continue her statement, which was paused exclusively for dramatic effect. “As you all know - per Mr. Honey’s final instruction - little Archie here will not be walking with us to collect his diploma.” 

Archie rolled his eyes, slumping back in his seat. “Thanks for the reminder Cheryl - do you want to tell me about summer school too or do you have a point?” 

“If you’d let me  _ finish.”  _ She retorted as she moved to place her glass down on a small red napkin that was sitting on the table. For a moment, Veronica wondered how many items Cheryl carried around with her to Blossom-fy her surroundings. 

“You won’t be collecting  _ your  _ diploma.” She continued.

“What does that even mean?”

Cheryl shook her head, a rogue strand of hair falling out into her face. She was clearly unprepared for such an incomprehensive crowd, but then again, after all of their years surviving Riverdale, maybe they all deserved to have something spelt out for them every once and awhile. 

“Had fate been kinder to all of us we’d have three ginger-grads walking the stage in a row. While I’ll happily take your place as the first of us all to accept their diploma, I refuse to be that last one standing - so, I talked to the board and we’ve all agreed. At today’s graduation ceremony Archie Andrews will be walking as a proxy, accepting an honorary diploma on behalf of J.J.” Cheryl reached behind her, retrieving a neatly folded Riverdale-blue graduation gown and extended it out towards Archie.

“Are you serious?” He asked as he reached out hesitantly. He was almost afraid to wrap his hands around the costume-quality material - as though touching it might wake him up from the dream. Cheryl placed the robe in his hands, and when Archie accepted the fact that this was  _ real  _ and  _ happening  _ and he’d be walking on the stage at his graduation afterall, he whipped his head back around towards Jughead, who was now happily sat with a mountain of french fries in front of him at the counter. 

“Jug!” He called back, holding up the robe, “My dad’s gonna be so happy!”

“Yeah, almost as happy as if you were actually graduating.” Jughead laughed, unable to contain his own smile. 

Cheryl Blossom had, once again, done the impossible. And no one knew where to start when it came to thanking her. Archie offered her a ride to the ceremony, which she quickly declined, tipping her head towards where Toni was waiting two booths over with a plate of chili fries,  _ I’ve got my ride.  _

At the actual ceremony - after all of the students had found their place in the alphabetical lineup and walked out to the graduation march - Veronica felt that time might’ve been moving a little too quickly. Although, she was almost grateful, because she couldn’t stop smiling the entire time. If it had run any longer she might never have been able to close her mouth again. There was something about being surrounded by the most wonderful people in her life, all at once. Sandwiched between Jughead, Kevin, and Reggie, the four of them screaming like madmen when Cheryl, Archie, and Betty walked across the stage - and then the reverse being true when it was their turn. It was surreal - like every moment had been leading to this. Although the transfer rates were high and many of the students who hadn’t been able to leave were otherwise… disposed of, their graduating class was able to make the most of the day.

By the time they threw their caps and Veronica ran across the football field to leap into Archie’s arms, pressing their lips together as he twirled her beneath the rain of mortarboards, they all confidently knew that this wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. No group of people went through what they did together and walked away from it unbound. No matter what happened after this, they’d forever be connected by Riverdale - the town with murder, pep, and milkshakes.

So it only made sense for them all to finish the day right where they’d started it all. 

In a booth at Pop’s.

“This could be our last summer in Riverdale, you know.” Jughead spoke between mouthfuls of his burger - courtesy of Veronica’s wallet, “We’re all going to different places, who knows if we’ll come back. Or who we’ll be if we do.”

Veronica lifted her chocolate milkshake in a toast, the corner of her mouth still quirked up in a smile, “No matter who we are, or where we are, or what we’re doing I know we’ll always bond together.” 

“How do you figure?” Archie asked, the only one of them still dressed proudly in his blue robe. It had creased after a day of use, but so had his eyes, which looked locked in a perpetual smile. 

“We’re elemental, Archiekins. We’re essential for life.”

[three months later]

Veronica bent over the counter at Pop’s, wiping away the misfired ketchup and stray grains of salt. This was her last shift at the diner before she left for New York, and she was going to be the last of the four of her friends to be leaving Riverdale. Betty had run off first on a premiere student program, followed by Jughead - who was attending a Midwest writers conference before he moved into his dorm at the University of Iowa. Archie was taken from her last, just a week ago. Whisked off to basic training with promises to write every day after being allured to the army from the many sales pitches of Moose. He kept his promise, and the letters were already starting to stack up on her bedside table. But she had little pull to read of his adventures while she was still stuck in the town they’d once called home. 

The ghost of Riverdale was somehow worse than it was when it was alive with horrors. Veronica could feel the entire town just sitting on edge - waiting for the next bad thing to happen. But she liked to believe that the luck had finally come in for Riverdale, and they’d finally go back to being the perky town they were before Jason Blossom’s death unleashed Pandora's box on them. Back when their biggest problems were confined to a girl next door having a crush on an oblivious boy.

Ready to hand the evening over to Pop, Veronica reached for the envelope she planned to surprise him with when two kids came bouncing into the diner. A sweater-clad girl and a boy in blue waving off an older man - presumably one of their fathers - who was driving away in his pickup truck. Veronica tried not to be reminded of her own friends, but maybe nothing ever truly did change in Riverdale. 

She waited, watching the pair as Pop took their orders. She half expected to see herself walking in, ready to collect a phone-in order and start the whole adventure over again. But those kids weren’t Betty and Archie, and this wasn’t their sophomore year anymore. They were graduates, and in a few years the students at Riverdale High might not even know their names outside of a stray award in the trophy case or one of their old yearbooks. 

Still, when Pop walked up to the counter with a grin she held her hand up, laughing, “Don’t tell me - strawberry and vanilla milkshakes?” She guessed their order.

“You got it!”

“How about you make them.” Veronica smiled as she extended the envelope out to him, “I’d hate for my lumpy milkshakes to give  _ your  _ diner a bad reputation.” 

Pop Tate dropped his notepad. The metal wires clanging against the tile floor as they hit the ground.

“Ms. Veronica, is this-?”

“The deed to Pop’s.” She finished his question with the answer, watching eagerly as he unfolded the paper to confirm the gift for himself, “This place has always been yours. Pass it down to your granddaughter - show her the ropes. Reggie will handle La Bonne Nuit.”

“I can’t accept this.”

“Please, Pop. Consider it a payment. You’ve given me more memories in these booths than I could ever buy.” 

Her eyes wandered around the diner one last time - looking out at the many faces still left unknown to her in the small town and the crooked frames she’d spent so little time appreciating. Her own photo was up there now - standing in between her friends, all of them mirroring the cheshire cat on their faces. They’d felt so important for years now - but maybe the only people they were truly important to were each other. And if that were true, Veronica figured it would be more than enough.

Before walking out and sounding off the little bell above the door, she stopped by a table where another boy sat alone except for the food in front of him and the phone in his hand, 

“You should sit with them.” She tipped her head over to the pair who’d walked in just before, “I think you three are going to have an incredible year.”

And with those words, she was gone. Off to explore the other memories from her three years in Riverdale. Taking the long way home, Veronica had her car crawl down Elm Street - which was newly redecorated by a  _ sold  _ sign sitting out on Archie’s lawn. As soon as he’d left, Mary and Brooke ran off to Chicago, and it wouldn’t be hard to imagine the Cooper household wasn’t far behind them. Not only was the murder house on Elm Street not the place Alice or FP wanted to raise Jellybean, but it wasn’t a place they felt they could fully commit themselves to each other, either. Too many ghosts, maybe. Of shadymen on kitchen floors and ex-husbands who broke the town. But it was still hard to imagine a world where the pair weren’t in Riverdale, like they all belonged to this place and each other.

Down Washington Avenue, parked like an eyesore in front of the Pembrooke, was a moving van packed full of Lodge belongings. The prison was operating rather self-sufficiently now, so her parents planned to move back up to New York with her tomorrow. Whatever happened here next, they’d solve it without Betty, Jughead, Archie and Veronica. Their stories with this town were finished.

In her bedroom, which was naked except for her bed and a few still-unpacked boxes, Veronica threw herself onto her mattress. She slid her thumb across her phone screen to accept the call that was coming in from Georgia. It was his first phone call since he left for Fort Benning - and she knew he only got a few minutes every once and while to talk so he might want to keep the conversation quick enough to allow another call home.

“Hello, loverboy.” She grinned into the phone, twirling her hair between two fingers as she listened for his voice.

“You’re moving up tonight, right?” 

Veronica nodded in response, knowing full well he couldn’t see her. “That’s right. By this time tomorrow, it will almost be like none of us even lived here.”

“Do you think we’ll ever go back?”

“Of course - to visit.”

“To live?”

She glanced over at all of the cardboard boxes peppered around her room, filled with memories and nightmares all the same. “I don’t think any of us will ever truly be rid of Riverdale.”


End file.
